


In Another Life

by theGirafficorn



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Adventure, Basically the closure that the pjo characters deserve, Camp Half-Blood (Percy Jackson), Canonical Character Death, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Dreams, F/M, Friendship, Gen, God Bashsing, Introspection, Its just a conveluted way to get everyone to talk about their feelings, Mourning Jason, Mystery, New Rome (Percy Jackson), Non-Canonical Character Life, Probably overused as a plot device, Tired!Percy, Was Luke right? No. Did he make some points? Yes., a little angstier than I was anticipating, and exploring character dynamics, and then a lot of plot, but not a love story, slow burn plot, some light necromancy, there's love in it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 103,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23862022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theGirafficorn/pseuds/theGirafficorn
Summary: For the past week, Percy Jackson has been dreaming about boy who should be dead, and a girl who knows more than she's willing to admit.Something, fate maybe, wants him to find them, and unfortunately for himself, Percy has never been one to ignore the heroes' call.So, with his plans for winter break ruined and his friends at his side, Percy finds himself crossing the Atlantic, facing another cultures monsters and friends long thought lost, on one last quest.
Comments: 44
Kudos: 54





	1. Five of Cups

**FIVE OF CUPS**

_Loss, Grief, Discontent_

PERCY

Percy dreamed of Jason's funeral.

He didn't know why. It had been nearly two years now, since they’d lost him. Percy was finishing up the first semester of his second year of college in New Rome, with no clue what his major would be. He left for New York in the morning, where Annabeth was going to join him in a couple of days once Berkley finished for winter break. Losing Jason still hurt, it always would, but it had dulled a little with time, and if Percy had learnt anything in the past seven years, it was that you had to keep on living

Jason had had two funerals. The first in New Rome, where his body lay, and the second at Camp Half-Blood, where Percy had been. They hadn't been able to have it until the Triumvirte had been dealt with, but the grief was as sharp and as deep as it would have been if Jason had only died that day. With the thunder roaring and the rain hammering down despite the camps magical boundaries, it was as if Jupiter was forcing them all to take notice. As if they weren't already. As if his grief could possibly match theirs.

The dream played through the funeral in painful detail. He relived Chiron's sad, knowing face and the smell of the empty shroud as it burned. And Thalia. _Gods, Thalia_. Percy never thought he would see her break. She was so self assured and strong. She'd always had the bravado that he could never master, but for herto get her brother back only to have him snatched away again was more than anyone could bear. She had wept.

As the funeral came to a close he braced himself to watch Thalia run away into the woods heartbroken, and for Nico to stop him from following her. But that isn't what the dream showed him. Instead the image started to shift and flicker, like a TV that was picking up crossed signals.

Percy found himself on temple hill at Camp Jupiter, in the little clearing behind his dad's forgotten temple. There was a perfect view of the assembled legion. Here maybe twenty people, all around Jason's age or a little older, were standing there hidden from view and watching the service below.

Towards the front of the group there was a boy with dark skin, deep brown eyes and close-cropped hair. He was handsome, maybe Percy's age or a little younger. He stood ramrod straight, his eyes brimming with tears and his body almost vibrating with emotion. Next to him was a girl in a matching black dress and hat. She had small features and huge dark eyes, which with her old-fashioned clothes made her look like a silent movie actress. While the boy was so focused on the funeral that he barely blinked, the girl seemed detached, keeping her eyes trained on the sky.

They all wore black and clutched flowers: not gas station bouquets or the wreaths that you saw at mortal funerals, but uneven clumps of leaves and wildflowers. They were a far cry from the rigid uniformity if the Legion, or even the relative order of Camp Half-Blood, but they'd obviously made an effort. Looking at them, Percy realised that most of them wore jewellery or sleeves, or had broader, more complex tattoos covering their arms where the Legion brand usually lay.

On his first day in New Rome, Frank had told him about Roman demigods who went rogue and set out on their own. They tried to be more Greek, he'd said. Was that who these guys were? It would explain why they were hiding. Perhaps. But that would mean that they'd come back knowing full well that Rome didn't look kindly on deserters. That spoke to something in Percy, and broke his heart all over again. He didn't doubt it was possible that some might care enough about Jason enough to risk so much.

A girl with long white-blonde hair tied with black ribbons opened a canvas bag. She had a tattoo of a flowering plant and some names and dates that Percy couldn't quite make out on her arm. She started to hand out mismatched cups from the bag and then filled them from an unlabelled glass bottle. Once she finished she turned to face the group, clearing her throat.

“I know I'm an odd choice to talk here. I promise, I'll go on with the blessing we planned out in a moment, and then if he feels up to it, August will say his piece. But first I thought I could say a little something from all of us."

"None of us have been here for...some time. And we all have our reasons for that. But I think we can agree that if there's any good in this place, then you could have found it in Jason Grace. So much of myths are empty words. A pretty lie in front of a poisoned legacy. But Jason _was_ a hero. He was the real thing. That's what makes this all the more tragic. So, with that being said,”

She cleared her throat and began a spiel that sounded rehearsed. It wasn't insincere, no, it was like the _ashes to ashes_ part of a mortal funeral.

“We gather here for Jason Grace. A good man.

We gather for a waste of a life, and a death well spent. For a good life, brief as it was.

Let him not fear the darkness. Let the earths embrace be warm, and from the life it holds let life rise anew. May the stars guide he soul, to whatever lies beyond. May he find his peace.”

She held her cup aloft.

"Goodnight, Jason Grace." Her voice cracked. She kept her cup in the air, and paused as she decided what to say next. "You were good, and we're grateful that we got to know you, however briefly. We hope you knew what you meant to people, even ones who you barely knew. You stood for a better way. You were kinder than you had any right to be, and you deserved so much more than you got."

Her voice broke again as she got to the end. Percy didn't know who she was or how she knew Jason, but she was right. It was good that she'd gotten a chance to say it.

"Goodnight, Jason." They raised their cups and drank down whatever was in there, Some of them coughing or spluttering as they did. He didn't suppose it was water.

The tense boy suddenly broke into heavy, uneven sobs, and the girl in the hat snapped out of her trance to hold him. He buried his face in her shoulder.

"What was it all for?" He choked out, over and over again as the girl made quiet, comforting sounds. With her arms around him he could see that she didn't have a tattoo, so maybe she'd left when she was still a probatio, or maybe she hadn't been a legionaire at all.

"I don't know Aug," She murmered, gently pulling away "I don't-"

She stopped short, hearing footsteps nearby. The whole shabby congregation stopped still.

A man, a retired roman of rank judging by the medals pinned to his chest, turned the corner. His red ringed eyes and heavy breathing made it obvious that he'd been looking for a quiet place to cry. He wasn't expecting this, whatever it was.

He stood there, stock still, as he and the group took eachother in. The standoff lasted what felt like a lifetime until the blonde girl, who'd lead the sermon, stepped forwards. The others all did likewise, making a barrier around the crying boy and hat-girl.

"Sir. You probably don't remember me-"

"Mary Cooper. First cohort. It’s been six? Seven years? I'm so sorry. We tried. There was an investigation. We looked- I remember you." Said it like he was begging her to believe him. When he looked around the crowd, his eyes widened even more, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I remember most of you."

Mary was pale and shaking, and the others crowded closer around her as she found her voice again. "We heard what happened, and we're so sorry. We can go now, but he was a good kid and we wanted to… well, we thought we should…We're sorry."

She made as if to walk away, but the man stepped after her.

"No! Please, stay, its ok. You're all alive. We didn't know, with most of you. It's enough that you're alive. How did you all find out? And how do you all-where have..." He shook his head "No. The less I know the better. Just tell me, are you good? All of you, are you happy?”

He did a sweeping examination of the group, who nodded feverishly, obviously shocked that this was going as well as it was, or that it was happening at all. The officer smiled weakly.

“Good, that's good. Thankyou. That you remembered and you risked coming to-“

He stopped abruptly, as though he'd been shot. The kids had relaxed their barrier a little, and behind them the crying boy had finally straightened out again to watch the funeral.

"Augustus?"

The boy looked up with a start but didn't turn around. They both looked shell shocked. If the man had been surprised to see the others it was nothing compared to how he felt looking at this kid.

"You can't see me." Augustus' voice was shaking. Percy thought that sounded just a little insane. He was standing in front of the man- how could he miss him? The Officer seemed to be with him there.

"I can see you." The man swallowed and took a shaky step towards him. " _I can_." He tried to take another but stopped when the other kids all tensed up, some even reaching for the weapons on their hips. "They told me you had- Jason told me, and he had your bag, and your knife. He couldn't find you. You're dead. A cave fell in on your head and he couldn't find you. He wouldn't lie. He wouldn't have _left_ you. Why aren't you dead?"

As he rambled the boy slowly turned to face him, his wide eyes locking in on the man's outstretched hands. For a second, Percy thought he was going to take them. But then, fast as lightning, the girl in the black hat stepped between them.

"Mary is right, August. We should go now." Augustus (August?) looked back and forth between the man and the girl, his face pained. Ultimately, he seemed to decide on something, nodding at the girl and darting towards the group, who closed around him as they grabbed jackets out of a pile and shoved their cups back into the bag. The girl turned to face the Officer.

“I'm sorry, sir. My friend and I came to support the others, but we've never met.”

She was a good liar, he’d give her that. Her words were sharp, concise and left little room for the argument. But as August was shepherded away by the blonde girl- Mary- her face softened a little.

“I'm sorry. Grief is a terrible thing. He was a lovely boy. You raised them well.”

It was a weird and cryptic thing to say, and the girl seemed to know that, since she winced a little.

She took one last look at the man before she followed her friends around the corner, limping a little as she went. By the time the man came back to his senses enough to follow them, there was no one left. The alley they went down lead to nowhere and nothing. All that was there was a dead end and the darkness, and a heap of wildflowers left like an offering at a temple.

_THUMP_

Percy woke up in his dorm room in New Rome. The _thudding_ sound seemed more real, somehow, than the rest of the dream. Closer, like it was in the room with him. He looked around in the dark, but there was nothing out of place.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes he looked at his alarm clock, the numbers bathing the room in a soft blue light.

1:30.

He'd barely been asleep for two hours. He tried to settle back down in bed and think of happier things. Tomorrow he would meet Hazel and Frank for coffee. The day after that he would be in his Mom's apartment, in New York where he belonged. He could see Grover and Annabeth, and maybe even Reyna and Thalia, since the Hunt had taken to spending Christmas at Camp Half Blood.

But then, thinking of Thalia made him think of Jason all over again and that made him feel like his heart was being scooped out with a melon baller.

Percy had lived through so many deaths, lost so many friends. He'd been way closer to other deaths, and his narrow escapes had only made him all the more guilty.

Bianca Di Angelo, Beckendorf and Silena, Zoe Nightshade. He'd stood by idle while they all accepted their fates.

Even Ethan Namakura, who died for a little recognition, and Luke Castellan who Percy was understanding more and more as he got older.

Each time Percy was the witness, and each time his own survival had felt like an injustice, somehow.

But then why was it was Jason's death, which by all standards had the least to do with him, that haunted him the most? Maybe it was the hopelessness of it. Everyone else had made some kind of a choice, but Jason was dragged back in when he was on the verge of making his own life. Maybe it was how similar their stories were. They'd each been a leader in the titan war, a member of the Seven, and an aid to Apollo on his quest. And yet it was only Percy who'd gotten to live. Why?

He didn't know. The words of the little funeral service rang in his head, again and again. _The real thing._

That was the crux of it. Jason was _good_ _._ His death proved that it didn't matter how good you were. Whether you were loyal and you did everything right, or you betrayed everyone, or if you made just one mistake. They were all born doomed.

His mind drifted back to the ex-romans, and their secret funeral. Good for them. At least they'd had the guts to be happy, in their own way. But then there was the mourning Officer, and Augustus who'd thought he was invisible, and the girl in the black hat…there was something about her that was a little too familiar and made Percy's head hurt.

But there was nothing he could do about that now, was there? He rolled over in his bed and was surprised about how quickly he fell back asleep. For the rest of the night he dreamt about his mom, and Annabeth and everything in his life that was certain.

AUGUSTUS

Five years ago, Augustus Birden was told a story.

_Nearly two thousand years ago the Romans had invaded Britain. The Britons fought back, and the Britons lost. Boudica's army was defeated. She was executed. And a group of women and witches found themselves under pursuit. They knew the land, they knew its magic and that made them dangerous, but not enough so that it was an even match. They ran north, but wherever they'd gone the Romans were close behind, and getting closer._

_Eventually the dwindled numbers had found themselves in a forest near the coast, just short of the safety of Caledonia. The troops were closing in and they couldn't run anymore._

_Celtic magic was a funny thing. The druids were gone, their gods faded into undying bodies, with no real power. They were out of options. One witch, her name lost to time, knew as much. She had lost so much to the Romans- her husband, her sons, her home and her gods. Yet still she prayed, offered one more sacrifice._

_No one really how it happened._

_Perhaps it was the last act ofBritain's dying gods. Perhaps it was a moment of mercy from the new ones that rose in their place. After all, it was a favourite trick of theirs._ _Maybe it was magic in its own right, borne from an act of pure selflessness._ _Some said that the Earth itself, a power older than gods or legends, was moved by her sacrifice._

_All they knew were her final words, carved into a stone where she made her final stand._

Until the Romans prove capable of peace, I will shield.

_The earth embraced her and in her stead grew a tree. The others stood in shock. Their gamble had failed, and now they could only wait._

_But no one came. The romans never appeared._

_Slowly but surely, they set up a camp, built homes, and learnt to live off the land. The tree grew stronger, and more and more people came with the last scraps of their lives and their cultures, trying to piece together something permanent._ _Soon it wasn't only the Celts who were hiding in the woods. Runaway soldiers and roman slaves came to fill their ranks. Greeks who wanted stability, or whose parents wouldn't acknowledge them. Norse half-bloods, who decided they would rather have long lives than deaths worthy of Valhalla._

_Eventually an Empire fell. The romans left. The Witches remained._

_The church rose in its stead. The Witches remained._

_The Vikings invaded. The Witches remained._

_The world started to hunt witches and yet here they remained._

_The cradle of the West shifted to Britain, and suddenly the witches shared a country with the very gods who'd pushed them near the point of extinction. And still they remained._

_By the time the west shifted across the seas to the new world, and the one they left behind was almost unrecognisable through smog and smokestacks, the witches were a mess of ldifferent legacies and magics. The camp in the woods grew to bursting, and a town cropped up near the Wood’s borders, letting them mix in with the mortal world. The sheer number of different gods, of scents and spells, confused predators and kept most monsters and gods away. Word of mouth did the rest._

_The magic, as it turned out, worked well. The witches could pass in and out of the camp as they pleased, or stay forever if they liked. Some were visited by siblings from Valhallah. Others spent summers in America, bringing back bronze weapons and ambrosia and children who wanted another way._

And some hadn't chosen to go to the woods in the first place. Some had been saved from death only to find themselves caught in something stranger. They'd been assumed dead, and the magic that surrounded the woods had complied. _Until Rome could prove they were capable of peace_ , they couldn't be trusted not to give the game away. It was rare, extremely rare. But it had happened, maybe six times in two thousand years. Someone would be rendered invisible to everyone they'd known and forced to find their own path.

August had asked then, how strong this magic could really be if it was so old and unexplainable. Paul had shrugged, and Velia had told in a cold, flat voice that didn't invite questions.

_"Strong enough to fool death is nothing insignificant."_

_So_ , Augustus had decided when he'd first heard the story, perched onto the edge of Velia's bed, he'd best get on with it.

THE GIRL

THUMP

On the other side of the world a girl woke up from a dream about a funeral and a lie and something impossible.

She sat up with a jerk, nearly falling off the sofa. It took her a minute to take stock. She was in Paul's flat. His dad had made dinner. She'd borrowed pyjamas and a blanket and took the couch, rather than walk back in the dark, because it was icy outside. She remembered.

Paul was stood beside her, looking sheepish as he was picked the stack of magazines that he'd knocked off of the side table. That must have been what had woken her.

"Sorry Vel, I’d half forgot you were in here. S'only half six, but I had an idea I had to get down and then I couldn't get back to sleep. You know how I am. Hey- y'alreet?"

She nodded, pushing her hair back out of her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. Fine." She said, trying to keep her voice light.

"Right.' Paul raised an eyebrow. He didn't believe her. "Cuppa?"

"Yeah, Please."

Paul shuffled into the kitchen as she went into his room to change. Sitting down hard on the bed, she tried to take slow breaths. _I have time_ , she repeated to herself, over and over, like a mantra. She had time. Even if it was just weeks, it would have to be enough. If not to change anything, then to prepare for the inevitable. Get her affairs in order. She pulled her pants back on. August would be home soon. That would be nice. But first she had to calm the hell down.

She was being fatalistic, that was all. One man who she'd never met saw her. As far as she knew they didn't have any mutual acquaintances. He didn’t know any version of her. That was fine. Maybe it was all fine, or at least manageable.

But then why did she dream about Percy Jackson? Why did she have to watch him at that funeral? He appeared in her dreams more than most, but not like this. Sometimes it was kind, sometimes it was cruel and usually it just made her feel ashamed. But it was never like this. It was never just... watching him. She’d done enough of that to last her a lifetime. She peered in the mirror, straightening her hair our and trying to drag her mind away from a boy across an ocean who'd never even heard her name.

She had so much left to do...


	2. Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Transformation, Letting go, Release  
> \---  
> In which Percy's dreams start to sneak into his life, and we learn the story of Augustus Birden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so of all of the Chapters this is the most expostition heavy, which I'm sorry if its a slog. On the bright side we can play the game 'spot the minor PJO characters.' The further we go from here, the more the story focuses on Percy, and the search begins.

**DEATH**

_Transformation, Letting go, Release_

PERCY

By the morning, Percy had almost forgotten about his dream. When he’d fallen back asleep, it had been deep and peaceful. Now he was walking through New Rome with Frank and Hazel, getting hot chocolate and enjoying the winter sun (which still pretty warm, since it was California). In short Percy had been more than willing to be distracted by better things.

They talked about school, and legion duties and their plans for the Holidays. Hazel was thinking about going to Camp Half-Blood for Christmas, to spend it with Nico, and Frank was going to see if he could get the time off to join them. 

It always made Percy happy to think that even if their meeting was destiny, and their bond was a product shared trauma in Alaska, the three of them _liked_ each other. They were friends because they wanted to be and not because of a prophesy. Sitting there on that bench, throwing croissant crumbs to pigeons and talking about college majors, Percy almost felt like a normal kid.

Frank was attempting to explain the rules of Mythomagic, so that they and Nico could all play together next time they were all in one place, when they were approached by a tall, burley guy wielding a box of files.

“Salve, Praetor.” He glanced at Hazel and Percy and corrected himself, “Praetors. And Ex-Praetor. I have those records you were looking for.”

Frank took the box. “Thanks Mr Bagshaw. I trust…I mean I hope that you’re feeling-that is that you are, uhm…”

He’d had turned red as he stumbling over his words. It was clear he had no idea where that sentence was meant to go. Luckily the man took pity on him, nodding with a half-smile.  
“Better. Yes. I’m back at work now, and I’m getting there. I was just on my way now to visit my-“, He looked pained as he gestured to the two bunches of flowers tucked underneath his arm. “You kids have a good day.” He abruptly turned and walked away

It wasn’t until the man looked directly at him that recognition struck and Percy’s blood ran cold.

It was the man from his dream last night.

“Poor guy.” Frank muttered when the officer- Bagshaw- was finally out of earshot. Hazel nodded in agreement.

“Why? Who was he?” Percy tried to keep the curiosity out of his voice. As soon as he asked the question, he felt the sunny atmosphere ebb away a little. Frank and Hazel shared a look, having a silent argument over who would tell the story. Eventually Hazel huffed and started talking.

‘Well, you know how some kids show up at the legion before they’re old enough for that kind of life?’

Percy nodded, remembering all those lines tattooed onto Jason’s arm. He’d been two when Thalia had lost him.

‘Well if they don’t have family they get adult supervisors, kind of like foster parents, until they’re old enough live in barracks. That man, Phillip Bagshaw, had two boys, Augustus something-‘

‘Birden.’ Frank supplied.

“Yeah, that’s it. Augustus Birden. He was a son of Venus, I think? And the other was Jason. Bagshaw’s really nice, even when we were probatios, remember?” She glanced back to Frank, “Anyway, Augustus died on a quest years ago, before we came here, and Jason was with him. Reyna told us about all this before she left, because Bagshaw was taking some time off after Jason...y’know. She said when she first arrived, she’d assumed that Bagshaw was his dad.”

“Gods, that’s awful,” It struck Percy that this guy had lost not one, but both of the kids he’d raised in the span of a couple of years. “Really awful. So, he took some time off after Jason…?” It was rare that anyone was able to finish that sentence.

“Yeah. You can imagine how hard he must have taken it. After the funeral he took a year out on personal leave, so he’s only been back a couple of months.“

“Oh.” Percy knew that a better response was warranted, but what could you say to that? Things were starting to slide into place in his mind, and he didn’t like the picture they were forming.

For one thing, he was almost certain that Bagshaw was the man from his dream last night. _‘Augustus…You’re dead’_ That’s what he’d said. Was that real? Or was he seeing Bagshaw’s grief-delusion in the dream? Percy didn’t know which was more worrying; they both seemed equally insane.

He must have looked worried because Frank decided to change the topic.

“Point is, he’s a nice guy and we’re glad to have him back. C’mon let’s talk about something else. We didn’t mean to make you sad before you left.”

“What? No, its fine, its fine.” Percy rushed to reassure his guilty looking friends. “I’ve just had a bad night’s sleep is all. C’mon.” He pushed himself up off the bench. He had the whole night to dwell on cryptic dreams and only a couple of hours to spend with Frank and Hazel. “I reckon we’ve got time to grab some snacks before I have to go.”

As if by magic, when they stood up to join him, that feeling of normalcy came flooding back. Walking back up the hill to New Rome, they could have been any three teenagers.

AUGUSTUS

 _When Augustus Birden was thirteen, he’d set off on his first quest. A journey to recover Bacchus’ Leopard from Sonoma. It was supposed to be the start of great things for him._ It was starting, _rang round and round his head like a mantra_ _as they set off from Camp._

_This was his first step. He wanted to be a centurion, like his dad and Bagshaw had been in the 90s. Maybe even a praetor one day. Everyone said that it was Jason’s destiny but it was Augustus’ dream. And why shouldn’t it be? Rome was found by Aeneas- a son of Venus, like himself. He wanted to live up to his legacy, whereas Jason wanted to escape his._

_They’d spent that last night together, lost in some tunnel, talking about the future. The last thing that Jason had said to Augustus, the last thing he ever would say to him, was “Omen’s don’t matter. What matter’s is that you and I are-“_

_He never found out what. The Keres that had been chasing them had caught up. Augustus never came back from that quest._

He wondered what his thirteen-year-old self would say, if he could see himself now? A first year Law student in England. Going to spend Yule with his half-brother, and their friends.

He’d probably have had a fit.

He turned the corner that led him to the Parkers’ store, and their home above it. Pauls dad, Rick, saw him through the window from where he was working on the register. August turned to go in and greet him, but Rick just laughed and gestured for him to go up the stairs, mouthing _‘door’s open_.’

August let himself into the apartment to find a familiar sight: Paul and Velia laid out on a patchwork rug made of old flannel shirts. Their feet were propped up on an armchair, as they stretched out like cats in the sun. Dog the dog was sleeping behind the chair, in a big, snorting, hairy heap. Fleetwood Mac was playing in the background, and the two were talking in depth about nothing at all.

“Aye-“ Paul was pointing to his feet, ‘- _but_ if you look at them next to each other-‘

‘-Then there is still _no difference_ -

‘-I swear to god they didn’t heal straight!’

“Paul are you honestly going to complain about crooked toes to me of all people? As the supreme authority on leg injuries, I’m telling you to shut up. Besides, it serves you right for never wearing shoes.”

“Well that was back when I had beautiful feet so- AUGUST!”

When he’d lifted up his head to glare at Velia, Paul had seen August lurking in the doorway. Velia’s head whipped around to look at him, beaming.

‘You’re home!’

_As the tunnel in the Labyrinth started to crumble, Augustus had been ready to die. He’d decided, as he knocked down the ceiling supports, that Jason living would be enough. One of them would get their dream. But then he’d felt hands on his arm, heaving him to the side, and then he hit his head and then-_

Nothing.

_He’d come to, who knows how long later, hearing snippets of conversation._

_‘-run into Jackson again-‘_

_‘-point of a double agent if you can’t get him into-‘_

_‘-how Mary keeps finding lads in this fucking maze-‘_

_‘-Chris kid? Just leave him for someone to find?-‘_

_‘-back to camp, Mary?’_

_He’d forced his eyes open at the word camp. Maybe someone had come to rescue him. He saw a head of short blonde hair crouched in front of him._

_‘Jason?’ He’d croaked, his eyes still focusing._

_The boy turned around. It wasn’t Jason. He was too old. He shuffled towards Augustus on his knees and said in a deep, unfamiliar voice._

_‘_ Hush. _Sleep.’_

 _He placed a hand over August’s eyes and_ _world went to black again._

Within ten minutes of the initial hugging and catching up, August found himself wedged on the little couch with Velia and a cup of tea, while Paul made lunch.

‘-so yeah, that’s why we’re working on a classification system.’

‘Wait, why can’t you just ban on exorcisms?’

Velia shrugged. She was the quietest, out of the five of them, but always unflinchingly calm. She was a sorceress in her free time. When she wasn’t working at camp. She liked to sew, too.

“Too harsh. Plus it’s a good skill to have. If you need one done, then you don’t want to have to wait for me or someone else to come sort it. It’s just hard to draw the line- what counts as a small exorcism?”

There was nothing like three months of mortal college to make you appreciate just how weird the Witches were.

When he’d first gotten here, he’d rather have been anywhere else. The kids he already knew, who’d run away from Camp Jupiter, knew that and made things tense between him and them. So, he’d stuck with Paul and Velia, after they’d taken him under their wing on his first day. Mary Cooper had stopped him from dying but the Parker’s had given him a life.

Paul was August’s half- brother, on the Greek side, but he was nothing like August. Or Jason. Or any of his friends from New Rome. Paul was a product of his environment, same as August had been.

August’s family had been in New Rome for decades. His father had died a hero and he’d grown up under an ex-praetor, with a son of Jupiter. He was told he was destined for great things and did his best to live up to that.

Paul’s family had been in the woods just as long, running the store in town. Paul had grown up Half in that tiny apartment, with his dad and a rotating cast of Parkers, and half feral in the woods. He knew exactly who he was, and their mom barely factored into it.

August was handsome, but on the shorter side, a little stocky. He tried to look neat and no nonsense. Smart. He liked running and history novels. He was quiet, but he got on well enough with most people, even if he preferred to keep himself to himself.

Paul was…an agent of chaos. Extroverted, and passionate and entirely comfortable in himself. He was a musician- he loved writing it, playing it and teaching it. He lanky, with defined features and he dressed like a cross between a Victorian dandy and an amateur DJ. He got away with it because he had charm in buckets.

They should have probably hated each other. Yet from the day that Paul had guided him over at lunch, and told the rest of his group that ‘This one’s ours now,’ he’d been more than happy to stick with the Parkers.

To be honest, it wasn’t until they were moving him into his room at college, and he couldn’t imagine having anyone else there helping him him that August had appreciated just how _much_ they meant to him.

_The next time August had regained consciousness he was lying in an infirmary bed and it wasn’t in New Rome. He’d figured that out straight away, since the ceiling was covered in kids’ arts-and-craft birds, and big water stains._

_‘Good. You’re up. Lee had to use a pretty strong spell to get you under properly, and then we were worried that you were concussed.’_

_‘Oh.’_

_He managed to sit himself up a little to look at the girl sat on the end of his bed. She was a little older than him. Curvy, with the longest, lightest blonde hair he’d ever seen. She was very pretty, with small pale eyes set in a round face. He’d gotten a little embarrassed, knowing that he probably looked More than a bit rough from his time in the tunnel. He glanced around the room to avoid her concerned look. The room was empty except for a girl in a wheelchair, talking quietly with a nurse._

_‘Augustus?’ It wasn’t until she said his name that Augustus looked realised who she was, sitting watching him._

_Mary Cooper had been the disgrace of the first cohort. She’d had Old family connections, and impressive references so they’d snapped her up and almost immediately regretted it. If they had a fault, or if anyone slowed them down or threw them off, it was her. The rest of the camp had looked on, quietly smug. It served the First right. Not Jason though. He’d just said, ‘Poor Mary’ and that she seemed nice._

_When she disappeared one night, with no trace, and they launched an investigation. It was the only time he’d ever seen Bagshaw really furious. Some of the kinder members of the First had come forwards. Four people were put on Probation for bullying. Bagshaw wanted it to be harsher, but they all had family connections. They never found Mary._

_Imagine his shock, when he found her alive, sixteen years old and stunning, in a strange place._

_He’d freaked out. Spectacularly. Hyperventilating, dry heaving: the works._

_After about ten minutes he’d managed to calm himself down enough for her to explain where he was, and who they were. About another camp besides, for Greeks, and how he could never go back home. Then he’d started to freak out again. Tossed around words like ‘traitor’, and at one point, Velia told him later, said that ‘Octavian was right, about the Greeks, about everything.’_

_He still cringed at that._

_But Mary had sat through it all like a saint, waiting for him to run out of steam. Just as he did, and she opened his mouth to keep talking to him, someone burst through the door. A tall boy, wearing a flowery waistcoat, alternating between wringing his hands and rubbing the back of his neck._

_‘Mary?’ Fast as a whip she turned to face the kid. ‘We’ve just got some news from across the pond. It’s, uh, its bad, so-‘_

_He had a thick accent, which sounded sort of British. Where the hell was he?_

_‘Gods no!’ Mary had cut him off. ‘Is it Ethan? Did he fail to make contact? Did they guess he was a rat? Did that Jackson kid get in the way again?’_

_The boy shook his head, verging close to tears. ’No Ethan’s fine…well his message, he, uh, saw Kronos rise. Did the deed, apparently and he said..._ _Ethan is OK. He sent us the message.’_

_Mary went from nervous babbling to stony silence. Eery stillness._

_‘And Lee?’ Her voice was small, but dangerous._

_The boy, Paul, didn’t answer._

_‘Oh.’_

_‘Mary, I’m so sorry.’_

_She walked out without looking at August or at the boy, who was crying now. She was mechanical, and her eyes were unseeing. The nurse ran out to follow her. Meanwhile the messenger went to the girl in the wheelchair, and they started to talk in hushed tones.  
Mary had been_ _out of the door for maybe forty seconds when August heard the noise he’d been struggling to forget ever since. That cry of pure anguish._

_It was explained to him later._

_At each camp (at the time, at least) there were one or two ‘observers’, who made sure that those camps didn’t cross paths with any of the witches, or if kids were unhappy and/or undetermined they got them to the Woods, rather than Saturn’s army. That’s how Mary had gotten out._

_They’d found out that the Labyrinth (the one from the myths, the one that they’d found Augustus in) reached dangerously close to the Woods (after all, it wasn’t a product of the gods, but meant to evade them.)_

_That was when Mary and her friends came up with a plan to place an observer with Kronos, to make sure the titans couldn’t find them either. That had gone according to plan. Ethan Namakura had managed to infiltrate Kronos army, despite a run in with some Greek hero._ _But at the other Camp, there had been a battle. Ethan had lived. The witch’s observer at Camp Half Blood- one Lee Fletcher, Mary Cooper’s boyfriend- hadn’t._

_‘You done?’_

_The girl in the chair nodded in assent, and she and the messenger made their way to the door._

_Before they went the boy turned to August._

_‘You waiting on anyone?’ He said to Augustus, who’d shook his head, forced to reckon with the fact no one was coming for him._

_‘Alreet. You comin’ then? We’ll find y’ some clothes. Work out what they’ve done with the stuff you came in with.’_

_After a beat he’d scrambled out of the bed to go with them. That was how he’d met the Parkers._

The three of them moved to sit around the table for lunch. Paul was recounting how he’d broken his toes, with relish.

“-And that, is why Nell Pernell needs to stop wearing Doc-martin’s as indoor shoes- “

“Uh,No,” Velia rolled her eyes as if she’d been through this before. She probably had. “It means _you_ need to _wear_ indoor shoes if you’re going to dance the Virginia reel, with like 14 other people.”

Hamish and Tripta had been in college for a year already, and August had gone in September. They’d all gone to different cities, leaving Paul teaching his music lessons, running the camp choir and helping with her dad in the store, and Velia at home.

Velia Parker was Paul’s something-eth cousin. It was too complicated to explain how they were related and August wasn’t convinced that _they_ knew. When she lost her immediate family and had been injured in an accident she’d been sent half-way across the world to live with these distant relatives. It sounded insane to August, when it had first been explained to him but then again Velia had thrived. When he’d arrived, August had assumed that she’d lived here for years. She just seemed to fit. But it turned out that she’d only been there eight months before him.

While Paul was tall, Velia was petite and her her hair was a little darker. They both had the same dark eyes that all the Parkers had, but Velia’s were much bigger.

“Well-“, August interjected “At least its not as bad as the time Paul got stabbed.”

“Yes!” Velds grinned “Remember Trip, pulling the knife out? Swore the whole time, and almost chundered on Hamish?”

”How could I forget? It’s why I don’t teach combat skills to twelve-year-olds anymore.” Paul made a show of grumbling but he didn’t seem too angry. He rarely was when Tripta was involved. “And then finished my drink while we were driving to A&E. Gifted engineer, shitey doctor.”

“She kept telling me that I couldn’t let you die because you owed her money.” Velia groaned, still smiling, “Which you still owe her, by the way. Still not the worst Tripta-first-aid story.”

Paul cackled. ‘Aye, how could I forget her breaking Hamish’s nose. The second time.’

August winced at the memory. Hamish and Trip were both street smart and academic, yet somehow, when left to their own devices, with no buffer and with nothing to do they became overly curious morons.

That was the first time that August had been to a British A&E. He’d been three times total and they were all Tripta related.

“Hey! I don’t seem to remember you trying to stop them Paul. My White top got ruined, and I’m still holding all of you- except for August, obviously - responsible. Remember, it had the feathers on the shoulders?”

“You didn’t have to stay that close to him, to be fair,” August interjected.

“And trust the three of you to take care of him? Not a chance. And not the principle. Ooh!” Velia snapped her fingers. “That reminds me! Trip gets in tomorrow, at Lunch-ish? So we’ll probably get you both moved back into camp then. Hamish will arrive the day after, hopefully. You’re all back in your old blocks, since the kids who moved into them went home for the holidays. “

The blocks were the little square rooms that they lived in at the camp.

It had taken him so, so long to overcome his homesickness, and to accept that the Woods weren’t any worse than camp Jupiter. Well, the condition of the buildings and the food was. But that wasn’t what August meant. Neither was Camp Half Blood, from what he’d heard about it. It was just different. You could be well or poorly suited to any one of them.

He’d always miss Jason, and Bagshaw, and his home in New Rome. But- he decided as Velia threw her head back and laughed and Paul creased forwards till his head almost touched his plate- This was good too. 


	3. Four of Wands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four of Wands- home, reunions, belonging  
> In which Percy goes home, we learn more about Augustus' situation, and the dreams keep coming.

**FOUR OF WANDS**

_Home, Reunions, Belonging_

PERCY

That night Percy’s dreams were a little kinder.

They showed him a night not long after the Titan war. The Huntresses of Artemis were moving on soon, and Grover was setting off on his Lord of the Wild business the next day, so they’d decided to spend one last day in the city, before crashing on the living room floor of his mom’s apartment.

His mom had never been too strict about keeping the girls and boys in separate rooms, but she’d _strongly suggested_ to him that he wouldn’t be sharing the air mattress with Annabeth. She was in a sleeping bag on the floor above his head. Grover had called the couch, leaving Percy to wrestle over a comforter with Thalia.

Percy couldn’t remember anything that they’d said to each other, or what movie they’d watched earlier that night. His clearest memory was of the pure relief and joy he’d felt, knowing he would live past sixteen and he would die one day. He would have a real life.

Dream Percy was broken from his warm thoughts by a pair of freezing cold feet.

‘Gods Thalia!’ he jerked away from her ‘Quit it!’

‘Quit what?’ She lifted her head a little, spiky black hair flattened to one side, the picture of innocence. ‘What’s wrong?’

The comforter moved again, and Percy yelped. ‘Its august! How are they that cold? No!’

He heard Grover laughing as Thalia kept pressing her icy feet onto him, and he tried to push her away.

Until suddenly it wasn’t _Grover_ laughing.

He found himself in a little bedroom, the walls covered in polaroid photos. The setting was different but the scene was eerily like the one he’d just left.

A guy and two girls were crammed into a single bed, and the two nearest the wall were having the same argument about cold feet, although the guy couldn’t move too far away without shoving the other girl onto the floor.

“Can California boy not take the cold?” The girl teasing him had an angular face and curly, black hair gathered on top of her head. She grinned.

“No, I can’t! Otherwise I’d have gotten out the bed, Tripta.”

When he jerked to sit up, Percy could see his face. It was Augustus. The boy from his dream the night before, who might not be as dead as the Roman’s thought. He seemed younger here- his jawline was a little softer, and his hair was shorter, but it was him. He could see him better now, in the full light, now that he wasn’t crying. He was handsome, with deep set brown eyes and a full mouth. Frank had mentioned that he was a son of Venus.

Now that they’d stopped squabbling, he and Tripta realised how close the other girl was to falling off The edge of the bed. They shuffled back towards the wall, pulling her up with them. They’d seemed to have settled back down, until the covers shifted again and Tripta gave a little shriek, punching Augustus on his shoulder.

“You sneaky little bastard.”

August opened his mouth to respond when the door was kicked open. Another boy,wielding a tray of mugs and a packet of cookies came in and sat himself on the end of the bed. He was good-looking in a way that was almost pretty, with high cheekbones and a dimpled smile. Tripta kicked him lightly on the ass from where she was laying.

“How did that take so long? Paul we are literally above a shop.”

“Had to let the dog out to piss- Why?” He batted his eyelashes – very dark and long for a guy- at Tripta as she arched a thick eyebrow. “Miss me?”

She snorted, kicking him a little harder.

“Always, babes. But mostly hungry. Pass the Biscuits?”

Paul threw them at her head, narrowly missing August who just rolled his eyes like he was used to them.

“I don’t understand your relationship. At all.”

They gasped in mock offence, Tripta yanking the thick, stripy comforter over Augustus’ face.

The other girl gently pulled it down, smiling a little. “No, August. _Our relationship_. You’re stuck with us now and this love lasts.”

It wasn’t until she spoke, shifting onto her back now that she had enough space, that Percy recognised her, too.

It was the girl from his dream last night. Percy had assumed she was a little older than he was; her black clothes and her cold composure made her seem so. But here she only looked as old as August did, maybe fourteen in the memory. Here, when she was laughing and with her bangs sticking out at odd angles, she was almost unrecognisable. She wasn’t in control, or mysterious. She was just a kid messing around with her friends.

Before Augustus could say what he thought about this commitment the other boy, Paul, grabbed an old polaroid camera off the desk and kneeled above them on the bed.

‘Hold that pose.’

The two girls smiled, while August burrowed himself half beneath the comforter.

When Paul pressed its button, the camera didn’t click. It made a knocking sound.

Percy woke up.

AUGUSTUS

August was woken up by what sounded like a murder.

On impulse he grabbed his sword from under the bed, almost impaling a sleeping Paul, and threw himself out of the bedroom door, half trampling Paul, to face-

‘Fucking hell, August! I thought we’d moved past this stage in our relationship.’

Tripta Singh-Chakra, stood hugging Velia.

Ah. It wasn’t a murder scream. It was a ‘ _my best friend who I used to see everyday but now loves three hours away is here,’_ scream.

During this Exchange, Pauls dad, Rick, had emerged from his bedroom in his boxers

“Tripta.”

“Mr Parker.”

“I’ll put on the group chat that you got in OK.”

And then he one-eightied right back into his room. Smart man, Patrick Parker.

The group chat, lovingly nicknamed the dad-squad, was Rick Parker, Hamish’s uncle Jamie and Trip’s stepdad, Swaran. Her mom had muted it, because the notifications were driving her insane.

She detached herself from Velia and tackled August next. That was when Paul stumbled out of his room, bleary eyed and rubbing the part of his stomach that August had stood on. Oops.

As soon as he saw Trip his face split into a grin and he stood up a little straighter.

“Hiya.”

August and Vel shared a look. He’d been filled in last night, while the three of them sat in the empty bathtub together. For whatever reason, when the three of them needed to talk about feelings, they always ended up fully clothed in the bath.

Turns out Velia got sick when she’d been supposed to go visit Tripta at college, earlier in the year. Rather than waste the train fare, Paul had gone instead. With the two of them alone, without August or Hamish to distract them or Velia to act as the voice of reason, well, one thing had led to another.

Even though Paul was very love with Tripta, and Trip evidently felt _something_ for Paul, the two hadn’t discussed it, or even acknowledged it since.

This had the potential to make things _awkward._

Luckily for them, Trip made the executive decision to keep ignoring the elephant in the room, just smiling, and offering Paul the usual hug. Under her command, they were heading up the road from the Town to the Camp within ten minutes, chatting on as nothing had changed.

Augustus couldn’t help but notice that Paul looked a little disappointed.

\---

The First time that August had seen Trip and Paul kiss he had been stunned. It wasn’t long before the titan War, and it was Paul’s sixteenth birthday.   
They had dancing and music every Friday night in the clearing in the woods, with faulty speakers and a big bonfire in the middle, for light, or at least there did when there wasn’t torrential rain. It had been one of those nights. When that happened they all ended up in the big mess-tent or one of the various common rooms, laughing and talking and drinking. 

That night Trip had asked someone to take a photo of the five of them, with one of the disposable cameras that Hamish always had handy. It was a running joke that they didn’t have a photo where all five of them were looking at the camera. Paul hadn’t been paying attention, so after shouting to him a few times, Trip had just jumped up and planted one on him.

It lasted just long enough to make the rest of them uncomfortable, and then it was over. They never mentioned it again. He wouldn’t have believed it had happened if Velia hadn’t gotten the photos developed.

But then it just…kept on happening. Every time they had plausible deniability. He’d known that there was something between them but he hadn’t realised it was _feelings._

Or at least, he hadn’t until last night in the bath when Paul had spilled the beans. He’d told them how much he liked Tripta, how he thought she was beautiful, and smart and funny. And much too good for him. How he was scared of being turned down, but more scared of her saying yes and it not working out. Her getting bored and finding someone as smart as she was. There being nothing there after the thrill of the chase was over, and him losing a friend for nothing if it ended badly.

All of that sounded completely insane to August.

Well, he got why Paul was into her, even if she wasn’t August’s type. She was six feet tall maybe, and _ripped_ from a combination of dance, blacksmithing and combat training. Paul had spent a good five minutes leaning forwards out the bath, to rest his head on Velia’s lap, as she sat on the edge of the tub, repeating _Her Arms. Oh my god her arms_. She was striking looking, with her strong nose, and expressive eyebrows and long curly hair.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, either, even though they’d really butted heads when they were younger. August was a serious guy, especially then. While Paul and Hamish were a lot more laid back, and more jokey than he was used to, Tripta was completely irreverent. She cursed like a sailor and she liked to make her displeasure known. Their biggest, recurring fight was about the gods.

( _‘They provided us with a home! With training!’_

_‘If that was such a good home, why are there 68 Greek and roman half-bloods here?’_

_‘They gave you life, Tripta! Your Father! It’s a duty to-’_

_‘Vulcan ejaculated, knowing that it could wreck my mother’s life! And he hasn’t given me anything since. My DAD is the man who raised me. If the gods could understand love, or parenthood, they would understand just how little they’ve given us!’_ _)_

Combine that with her deprecating sense of humour and pure cockiness, and a friendship didn’t look likely. But they were stuck with each other. Neither one of them were willing to surrender the Parkers to the other.

Velia’s advice had been to find something he didn’t hate about her and work from there. Shockingly, it had worked.

He’d come to realise that Trip was principled. She defended her friends- even him, more than once. She had a temper, but she was patient with kids or anyone who made an honest mistake and wanted to get better. For all she was cocky, she had cause to be. Tripta was competent. In a camp that ran at its own pace, she was meticulously organised and made sure everyone under her kept up. And she admitted when she was wrong, although that didn’t happen often.

At the ripe old age of eighteen, August could admit he hadn’t been so easy to get along with himself back then. He’d struggled in what he’d considered his reduced circumstances.

Now he loved Tripta, as one of his closest friends but he’d throw himself out the window before admitting it to her face.

But despite all this, August couldn’t understand why Paul would think that Tripta was too good for, or was less keen on him. On _Paul_ , his outgoing, charming, kind brother.

To be fair, Tripta always took the lead with guys, and she never talked about her feelings. He guessed it might be hard to tell if it was more than physical on her end. Put that with Paul’s secret inferiority complex and you found yourself at an impasse.

Which was ridiculous. They were both ridiculous.

As they walked down the track into the woods, he gave Paul what he hoped was a sympathetic look, but he’d just shrugged it off, asking August questions about his college courses, about the friends he’d made there. Still, that didn’t stop him from casting longing glances at Tripta every ten seconds, as she walked up ahead with Velia.

PERCY

As soon as Percy’s ass hit that couch it was as though he’d never left home.

That was what New York _was_ though. Home.

He’d become fixated with the idea of a life in New Rome that summer aboard the Argo II, but as soon as he’d come back, he was faced with everything he would miss. If anything, living in New Rome for this past year had made him more certain that he would always end up in New York.

Paul, his stepdad, was still at work for the day, so he had a little time alone with his mom and sister. Sally was in the Kitchen, making cookies and he would have gone through to help her, but Estelle had immediately grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into the living room desperate to show Percy drawing she’d done of him. It was a squiggle with stick legs (since Estelle was two) and Percy loved it.

You would have thought that after dreaming about a parallel between his life and a that of a boy who’d maybe faked his own death would freak him out a little but it didn’t. The thing was: Percy was _done_.

Maybe if this Augustus, in the dream, had been unhappy or in danger, his lingering loyalty to Jason might have persuaded Percy to look for him or figure out the dreams. Usually when he dreamed about a stranger or the past, something was trying to warn him, or he was being haunted.

But the dream last night had been so _normal_.

What if these dreams weren’t some grave warning. Maybe something good had happened for once and Augustus had survived and so had all the others who’d run away from New Rome. The Waystation existed, maybe there were more places like it. Maybe Augustus was happy and safe.

Someone had to be sending him these dreams, right? Maybe it was Apollo now that he was a god again. He’d not been allowed to visit camp since his re-ascension. What if he’d kept a hold of his mortal empathy once his powers came back? Maybe this was Apollo’s way of showing him that everything wasn’t as lost as it had felt, after Jason died. Some people escaped the gods. Maybe they could all find some peace.

Percy didn’t usually like to dwell on what ifs and maybes. They left too much room for disappointment and unwelcome surprises.

By the time the cookies were done, Estelle had been put down for her nap and he got his mom all to himself. She told him about the book tour she was going on in the spring, Paul’s mom’s visit to New York, and the mess Estelle had made of the rug last week. They Iris messaged every week, but it wasn’t the same as being in the same room talking to her. Besides, Estelle didn’t really understand the concept, so she kept swiping her pudgy arms through the mist and breaking the signal when she tried to reach out to Percy.

Percy let her words wash over him as he stood doing the dishes. The hardest thing about being in New Rome was being so far away from his mom.

He felt a warm hand on his cheek.

‘Percy?’

He turned to face her, struck by how much taller he was than her. He’d never really minded, growing up, that he looked like his dad. Not when his mom used to talk about missing him, or how handsome and kind his dad had been. But that was before Percy _knew_. Now he wished he looked more like Sally Jackson. Well, he wanted to be like her in as many ways as possible; there was no one better in the world. But it was more than that.

Estelle looked so much like his mom, but with Paul’s brown eyes. The age gap between him and his sister was so big, and he lived so far away and looked so _different_ and made everyone’s lives so complicated _._ It was so dumb to get hung up over it, because he knew how much his mom loved him. Still, sometimes he couldn’t help but feel like they were their own family unit, which he wasn’t a part of.

“You looked like you were miles away, sweetie. Is everything ok?”

He was being irrational, and he knew it. He shook his head, smiling a little. She didn’t say if she believed him, just lifted her arms open to him. It didn’t matter now. Percy was hugging his mom.

It was good to be home.

AUGUSTUS

August and his friends had ended up in the common room, after they’d unpacked their bags.

It was a low, wooden building, on the end of their block of rooms. It had a kitchenette, which was missing half of the cupboard doors, an old piano that was so out of key that only Paul and maybe two other people could make it sound remotely good, and an eclectic mix of old couches, chairs, and beanbags. The walls were lined with posters and notices from the last decade that never got taken down.

Someone had put on some music, and Paul and Trip had wound up lying on the floor playing an aggressive game of Irish snap. It had started with just the two of them but wound up with about twelve players, lying on the floor and slapping hands. Of course, with more people needing to reach the cards in the middle, Tripta and Paul had wound up lying much closer together than they had at the start. He watched Trip lean back to mutter something in Pauls ear, making him laugh. The two shared a look…until someone yelled _snap_ and the spell was broken, as everyone slapped their hands into the middle.

He and Velia sat on the red couch underneath the big dry-erase board. It had the fewest uncomfortable lumps, but the most mysterious stains. She was looking towards the game of snap, but you could tell she wasn’t really seeing it. She’d seemed a little far away the night before, but then she usually was in the run up to the holidays.

“Why can’t they figure it out?”

‘Hmh?’ Vel glanced back to him.

“Those two. Does she not like him back?”

He felt sort of bad for asking Velia, but if anyone would know it was her. She was a good listener, so people just told her things, himself included. She was good at keeping her own secrets, so it figured she’d be good at keeping everyone else’s.

She shook her head firmly.

“Don’t be silly. Look at them. “

Paul gave a yelp as his hand got hit. Tripta mockingly kissed his hand better, but August saw him inhale sharply at the contact, even from this distance.

“Then what am I missing? Why won’t she make the first move? She does any other time.”

They were, after all, talking about the girl who had once used ‘ _you’ll do,’_ as a pickup line. Successfully. He felt like he was missing something obvious.

Velia gave him a tight-lipped smile that made him _know_ that he was missing something obvious.

“Exactly. She does any other time. And any other time, Paul was people throwing themselves at his feet. She doesn’t want this to be like any other time.”

August’s immediate instinct was that Tripta was being deliberately awkward and she needed to put Paul out of his misery. But then he crammed down the overwhelming urge to make things better for his brother and realised that it made a lot of sense.

Tripta’s mom had married her best friend, who at that point was divorced with a two-year-old son, when Tripta had been two months old. Having loved each other for over a decade, Ishleen Singh and Swaran Chakra had finally got their timing right. Ever since they’d done great professionally while raising their three kids together. Tripta had told him, once, that her Mom’s motto was to never settle, because nothing worthwhile ever came from it. It was something she lived by and August couldn’t help but respect it.

“So Paul has to make the first move?”

“Mm hm.”

“Shit.”

“Exactly.”

The whole situation was depressingly on brand for them. He wondered if their feelings would go away if they just kept ignoring them. But then he remembered a conversation he’d had when he was younger and sadder.

“So, they _just have to feel it_ , don’t they?” 

Velia looked confused for a second, but then she snorted and flopped backwards onto the couch. She remembered.

“Well it _is_ very good advice.’

He settled down next to her.

“A friend gave it to me, a while ago. It really helped me and I don’t think I ever thanked her properly for it so-“

He was cut off by Velia was hugging him. It didn’t last long but when she pulled away, she was sniffing and blinking a lot. August put an awkward hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, you okay there?”

She sniffed again, giving him a strained smile. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve just been in my head a lot, lately, so its nice to know that I’ve helped someone, at some point. It’s silly to dwell but well…You know how it is.’

August nodded. Unfortunately, he did.

Velia had no immediate family- Paul and Patrick were distant relatives. So, she and August were both there because they hadn’t any other options. He wondered sometimes if that was why they just kind of… _got_ each other. Or maybe it was something else- she only ever spoke about her past in vague terms so how could he know?.

Whatever it was it didn’t matter. Velia was sad. He didn’t have to know why but he had to Try to do something about it.

He stood up. “C’mon. I’ll make you a cup of tea. We’ll tell the horn-dogs what we’re up to, go back to mine and watch weird documentaries on Netflix.”

She let him pull her up.

‘That sounds nice. Thankyou, August. You’re a good friend.’

PERCY

That night, as Percy slept in his own bed, he’d felt warm and safe. And then he had to go and dream.

He saw himself during his first summer at camp, before he had gone on the quest for the master-bolt.

Percy had been sat with the Hermes cabin, laughing with the Stoll brothers because he couldn’t get the actions to the song right. If it was weird to see himself as a twelve-year-old, it was really weird to see his friends that young. Connor offered him a bag of M&M’s, and Percy smiled as he picked out a couple of blue ones without thinking.

It was like flipping a switch. All of a sudden his young self looked really sad. Present-Percy was confused for a minute until he remembered: blue food reminded him of his mom. At this point his mom, the only person he had in the world, was gone. He’d thought she was dead. And he was _twelve._ At the time he’d felt pathetic but looking back he was proud of how well he’d handled it.

It was what happened next that had haunted Percy. He watched himself blink back tears and slip away from the campfire. Luke Castellan saw him leave and followed after.

He wondered if this was how Officer Bagshaw felt, seeing Augustus at the funeral. Looking a dead man in the face.

Percy remembered him well. Tanned and blue-eyed, he had seemed impossibly brave and adult to a twelve-year-old who was desperate for guidance. He might have forgotten how it had started, but this conversation was burnt into his memory.

Luke came up beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder, making him flush with embarrassment and frantically rub his face, muttering an apology. He was cut off before he could finish.

“Hey, man. Its ok. You’re ok. I won’t tell anyone. You’re upset about your mom, right? You want to talk about it? Or I can find Grover for you if you want?”

The look on his face and the tone of his voice seemed sincere, but then Luke had always been a good liar. He couldn’t have gotten Annabeth to take the sky, and Silena to betray them otherwise.

Percy hadn’t been confirmed as the child of prophesy at that point. He’d just been another kid dealt a rough hand by the gods. What did Luke have to gain from lying? Maybe he wasn’t trying to do anything in particular. Or maybe this was his first step in trying to recruit Percy. He’d never know, no matter how long he’d thought about it since.

Shaking his head, young Percy had just about gotten himself together and was about to shrink away when Luke stopped him.

“Can I give you a word of advice, Percy?”

He watched himself nod, a little flattered by the attention.

“The hurt you’re feeling now, it won’t go away. You have to channel it. If you’ve got to feel _something_ , turn it into a feeling you can use.”

It was obvious that Percy was confused because Luke stepped back towards him. The lamp light illuminated his scar and cast his face in a sinister light. His smile was bitter.

Percy was older now than Luke had been in this memory. He didn’t feel as mature as Luke had seemed. He wondered if kids looked at him now the way he’d looked at Luke then? If they saw the hero, but not the horror behind him.

“You’re sad right now. You can’t do much except bottle that up. But Anger? That you can use. Let it drive you. Maybe it’s different for you. Maybe being sad will make you wise or something, I don’t know. But anger always served me well. Whatever you feel though,” Luke looked him in the eye with an intensity that still made him flinch, “Don’t forget what- don’t forget _who_ \- made you feel it. See you back at the fire. There’s no rush. Think about it.”

Percy was left alone.

He understood how Luke managed to turn so many half-bloods to his side. He was good at picking out people’s flaws and weak points, but even without that, he was kind of right. The gods were terrible. He was wrong for trying to replace with something worse. His anger made him lose sight of what was important. It wasn’t bringing the gods down, it was raising the half bloods up.

Percy’s fatal flaw was loyalty. Annabeth’s was Hubris. He had never really thought about Luke’s. Now he knew it was Wrath. Anger had driven him, consumed him. It was so obvious in hindsight. How could no one have noticed what he was becoming?

The question repeated in his head, as the dream started to shift. Percy was almost relieved when it did.

He found himself watching a different Camp Fire. It was in a big stone amphitheatre dug into the ground. In the front of the fire, leading the songs was the boy from his dream last night- Paul? With a guitar. Everyone was rowdy, singing -

_‘Oh, things couldn’t be worse, when your parent’s run the universe.’_

It was safe to say that they were demigods, then. But then, how come nothing had smote them for blasphemy yet?

After every chorus Guitar-boy would Pick out a kid with their hand raised and they would sing a little verse making fun of their parent. Some of them were Greek, some were Roman, but lots were about gods and spirits that Percy had never heard of. The tone of the whole thing was more light than it was bitter, as if they were all thinking _What can you do_?

His focus locked onto the one kid not joining in. Augustus looked uncomfortable, and Percy sort of got why. Don’t get him wrong, if Percy had the chance to air his grievances without Zeus thundering in the background, he would take it in an instant. But if Augustus was used to the respect and order of New Rome? It would be hard to get on board with this.

Eventually, like Percy had, he snuck away. It wasn’t exactly subtle, since he had to push past everyone, but no one payed him much mind. He vaulted up the steps, and towards the nearest building, which looked like a converted shipping container. It was too dark to see much of his surroundings. He stood there for a minute, his head pressed against the metal, breathing heavily.

It was like that that his friend, who’d been with him at the funeral and in the bed, found him. Percy couldn’t think of her name.

They both looked about fourteen. The girl had thick, straight bangs that she hadn’t at the funeral. She wore a long green skirt and leaned on a thin, metal cane, engraved with flowers. Percy had noticed her limp in the funeral dream but here, years earlier, it was more pronounced.

“Hi. You feeling alright there? You look a little grey.” Her accent was somewhere between British and American- like an actress in an old movie.

August turned to rest his back against the wall. “Velia, hey. Yeah. It’s just, uh, a lot. You know. And the song, it uh… I get it, I guess, I’m sorry, it’s a lot.”

She smiled, a little sadly, and leant next to him against the wall.

“Could I ask you something?”

Velia looked a little surprised but nodded.

“You’ve only been here eight months, right? I mean, it’s a while, but I assumed you’d been here longer. I know you went through some…things, before you came here, but you seem so adjusted and I just feel like a mess, constantly and-“, he cut himself off to take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and shutting his eyes. It was a gesture he’d seen Jason make dozens of times. Slowly he exhaled and started again. “Does it ever stop hurting? Emotionally, I mean.”

The girl opened her mouth and shut it again. You could tell just by looking at August that he was worried he’d crossed a line.

“I’m so sorry. Paul told me that you don’t like to talk about your past. It was inconsiderate. I shouldn’t-“

Velia held up a hand, as if to stop him.

“No.” Her voice was soft. “No, you’re ok. I’m just thinking, that’s all.” She was quiet for a little bit. When she started again she spoke slowly, like she was choosing every word carefully.

“It doesn’t stop, no. But the hurt changes if that’s any consolation?

“Like right now? I’m guessing it’s like a constant ache. You’re sad and angry and you feel out of place. Eventually you’ll settle in and find something or some people that make you happy, that you maybe wouldn’t have found in your old life. And those little moments of happy will get more often and last longer.

“But then you’ll remember, and it’ll be like being punched in the gut. You’ll feel so guilty that you’re here and happy, that you look at yourself like a traitor. But you just have to let yourself feel it. And keep feeling it. Let yourself feel everything, happy and sad. Eventually you learn to live with it. “

August nodded, but he still looked worried, “And what if I don’t? What if I keep on feeling this way?”

Velia had her eyes locked on the sky. She seemed to be staring at something, but Percy couldn’t tell what. It was dark enough that they could see the stars, but not much else.

“Then you talk to someone. And you get help. There’s no shame in it.”

He nodded again and the two of them stood in companionable silence for a little while. Eventually Augustus turned to her and awkwardly half-lifted his arms.

“Can I, uh…I mean could you-?” He didn’t have to finish the question. Velia hugged him, rubbing his back. When they pulled apart she pretended not to see him swipe a tear away from his cheek.

She took him by the arm and led him back to the campfire, to where they’d been sitting before. They wedged themselves between the other girl from his dream last night, and a big guy with a shock of red hair and a crooked nose.

The singing had only gotten rowdier as the verses got progressively dumber. The last verse had ended with a boy giving up, yelling “Fuck it, you try rhyming Blodeuwedd _!_ She’s a bloody Welsh flower woman.” That got Augustus to crack a smile and he even joined in with the chorus.

‘ _Oh things couldn’t be worse-‘_

_‘But I don’t care where Our parents may be, as long as you are here with me,’_

They all repeated that line, joining hands and lifting them up. Tripta, elbowed August, and the big guy grinned at him over Velia’s head. August caught Velia’s eye and mouthed _thank you._ But she just shrugged.

The Dream faded into nothingness, and Percy slept through till the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! That was that! Just a couple of notes:  
> I really love all the platonic Dynamics in the PJO series especially, so my focus if definitely more on that than the romancey side. Besides, its Percabeth. You Can't improve perfection.  
> Yes, that Campfire song is lifted directly from the Lightning theif musical, because its excellent and its such a vibe that I couldn't think of anything better.  
> Again, these first few chapters have a lot of OC in them, but it'll become clear why come Chapter 5 (which is already written- hooray for what I hope will be a very regular update schedule!)  
> Thankyou so much for reading, any feedback is appreciated (especially that which points out issues, or stokes my ego. Both are super helpful)  
> Hope everyone is having a good week, and well done for getting this far!


	4. Two of Cups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two Of Cups- Unity, Partnership, Close Bonds  
> In which Percy goes back to Camp, Dreams and Reunites with some friends. August speaks with Velia, and we learn why the hell I chose to name all of my chapter titles after tarot cards.

**TWO OF CUPS**

_Unity, Partnership, Mutual Respect_

PERCY

Percy was unsettled. His dream the night before last had made him optimistic that maybe that kid, August, was okay somewhere but now he was less sure.

It was a nice dream, he reasoned. He was with other demigods, and he had people who cared about him. But then how come the dream was like a mirror to him and _Luke?_

The girl didn’t seem unstable in the same way that Luke had, even in his memories. If anything, she was a calming presence. She had been at the funeral, too. But the other dreams had all run parrallel to themselves. Two experiences at Jason’s funeral. Two nights at home, with friends. And two traitors? Or maybe it was two liars’ having a moment of honesty. He had no idea.

Normally when he had dreams, he knew what to do with them. They tied into a quest or something he had to understand, to find or kill. But these dreams had no looming threat, no hints to a bigger evil. What was the point of them? He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was on the verge of something; but what?

“Everything Ok, Percy? You're looking a little down, there.”

Percy straightened up and gave Paul what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He’d been nice enough to give Percy a ride to camp in his Prius, while Estelle slept in her car seat. His mom would have done it herself, but she was in a meeting with her publisher.

"Yeah, fine, just tired."

Paul nodded. Even if he wasn't convinced, wouldn’t push it. Not with Percy. Within twenty minutes he was out the car and walking up Half-Blood Hill with his duffle bag over one shoulder. He’d arrived when everyone was in activities, and most of his friends weren't there yet.

A couple of people recognised him and waved but mostly he was left to enjoy the quiet buzz of activity around him, feeling the sun on the back of his neck. It was like he just fit here. He liked college, more than he’d liked school anyhow. But it was like the difference between New Rome and New York, between being in a place and being a part of it.

Eventually Percy made his way up to Rachel’s cave. He rang the bell on his way in (you can’t really knock on a curtain) and was hit with the smell of oil paints and blaring indie rock. Rachel was stood in front of a canvas, humming along and painting with quick, smooth strokes, until she noticed him. When she hugged him, she narrowly missed his face with the paint brush that she'd forgotten to put down. Then they settled down on her couch and talked about his trip, and college, and the music that she had on and everything else that they'd done in the past couple of months.

She was at art school in New York (to the horror of her parents) and was thriving there- she'd definitley been on a creative kick, if her cave was anything to go off of. There were canvases slung everywhere, with paintings on them that Percy didn’t have the words to describe. The one she’d been working on when he came in showed blurred, abstract figures that looked like they were dancing. Rachel saw him looking and walked over to it, pushing her frizzy hair behind her ears.

She had this sense of ease about her that Percy envied. He liked college. He had friends there - not just Frank and Hazel and Tyson, but kids in his classes, and from his basketball team. Annabeth was at Berkley, on one of the best architecture courses in the country, so he got to see her most weekends. But college just wasn’t _for_ him like it was for Annabeth, or for Rachel.

Rachel ran her fingers over the painting without touching it, since the paint was still wet. In the foreground were a couple with blonde hair. They had no faces beyond smudges where their eyes and mouths were, but you could almost feel the figures spin. It was looked like a photo that no one had stopped moving for.

"It’s nice." It deserved more words than that, but Percy didn't have them.

"Yeah? It came to me in a dream."

That caught Percy’s attention.

"A dream?" He tried to keep his voice even.

"Mh hm. Every night. Nothing weird or scary, though, just the dancing. Always in that room, and too fast for me to get a good look at anyone." Rachel shrugged and started to tidy up her brushes. "There are worse dreams to have."

Percy remembered the cryptic dreams she’d had on the runup to the titan war and the paintings that had come from them. He remembered his own dreams. He couldn’t argue with her.

“Lunch?”

“Sounds good.”

On their way there they saw Will and Nico sparring. Neither of them took it seriously, since they were more focused on teasing the other than winning the fight. Nico caught his eye and smiled, distracting him for just long enough for Will to get the upper hand…and to trip over his own feet in surprise. Both ended up sprawled on the ground, laughing. It put Percy in a good mood as he sat down to eat.

Rachel sat on one side of him, and Conner Stoll on the other. By now the table per cabin system was pretty much ignored by everyone but the youngest campers. 

Percy forgot about his dreams and let all thoughts of the future slip away in favour of the people around him. He was exactly where he needed to be. Tomorrow Grover and Annabeth would be here, and everything would be perfect. He soaked up the noise around him, the pale winter sun and the smell of barbeque. It was perfect, if only for a little while.

AUGUST

August had gone on a run around the camp that morning - which granted wasn't that far. In the centre of the camp was the Tree (the Tree, the camp, the town, the woods. The witches really weren’t that big on naming things.) It was surrounded by the main buildings: the shop and the exchange, the main office, training and teaching rooms, the clinic, and the under-thirteens facilities (they slept in dorms). None of the buildings matched since they’d all been put up at different times. Beyond that were a rabbit warren of accommodation blocks, common rooms and bathrooms, all low wooden buildings with grass roofs and cheap plastic skylights. Beyond that were the trees.

It was kind of ramshackle, and it was a weird layout, slowly pushing back from that tree in the centre like a target. But hey, it was home. 

Eventually he found Tripta and Paul sparring on the grass in the commons. They fought like they danced: in close quarters, with fast, smooth movements and perfect synchronicity. Trip weilded a barbed Warhammer in each hand. She struck with one, blocked with the other as Paul dropped to his knees and rolled out of her reach, sweeping her legs from under her. As soon as she hit the ground the pair scrambled. It ended with Tripta on top of Paul, their eyes locked together, with her hammer raised over his head, and his sword at her throat.

August turned away, feeling like a voyeur. When he’d seen them from a distance, he’d thought about joining them but clearly, from the way they were looking at each other they were doing just fine on their own.

Paul fought with a Celtic short sword called ‘My wiener.’ He and Tripta had named eachothers weapons, as a sign of trust or something like that. To his credit, Paul thought it was hilarious, joking about how ‘size didn’t matter, it was what you did with it.’ They were, in a stupid way, perfect for each other.

When he’d first got to camp the fighting-style had thrown him. Roman uniformity and strict training regimens couldn’t float in a camp where everything was touch and go and the campers actually went to school. That wasn’t to say it was individualistic. It was organised chaos.

He still had his gladius- the only piece of the legion still had. Most of the witch’s weapons were made of ‘scrap’- cheap mortal metals mixed with just enough Stirling silver, or bronze that they could kill a monster. But their real strength was adaptability, since it made them pretty hard to strategise against. Foot soldiers, cavalry, magic, and projectiles, all working together with a common goal. It was something to see.

Putting thoughts of training aside, August made himself Coffee and a cup of tea for Velia and took them both to her room. With her being a little emotional last night, and looking tired at breakfast he’d thought he’d best check in with her.

He tapped on her window with one of the mugs.

" _S’open._ "

Vel’s room was a little bigger than the others, so that she had room enough to turn around her wheelchair when she needed it. It was probably the nicest inside. Living there full time she'd had lots of time to decorate. There photos pinned up in neat rows, some art prints and postcards, potted plants, reed diffusers and matching blankets and throw pillows, in shades of grey and white.

She was sat on her bed, legs crossed at the ankles and a tray table over her lap. When August came in, she shifted herself so he had room to sit across from her.

“I Ran into the other two, sparring.” He offered up, as Velia took her mug off of him.

"This is lovely, thanks- were they doing it in a weirdly intimate way?"

"Yup."

"Gross. That’s going to take some getting used to again. They need to learn to yearn in private, like everyone else."

He snorted. For all Velia was much more tactile and openly affectionate than he was, next to Paul and Tripta they both seemed very withdrawn.

"I'm sorry, do you yearn?"

"That's my point. You don't know what I do."

August just laughed, rather than push it.

They sat there in comfortable silence, enjoying their drinks. He took the time to look at her. At a glance, she looked fine. She was dressed as nicely as ever, and her hair was tied back in a floral scarf, making her look like Rosie the riveter. She’d put makeup on since breakfast, hiding her dark circles. Still, he could tell that something wasn’t quite right with her.

He leaned over to look at her little table. A tarot deck was rested on it, with three cards upturned in front of her.

“Don't tell me you believe in this.”

He knew that Velia was a Witch in practice, not just in that she lived here. He’d seen it. Seen her kill a tree by touching it and bring it back to life again. He’d seen her bend shadows like a puppet master. That might be why he struggled to believe in this kind of witchcraft. In charms, crystals, candles in mirrors and tarot readings. They all seemed too domestic and common, too easy to be real.

She looked incredulous. "Why do you think I have one printed out above my bed?"

He glanced at the copy of ‘The Star’ card that she'd had pinned to the wall for as long as he’d known her.

"The Aesthetic?" In his defence, Velia was very particular about her clothes and her room. She rolled her eyes.

"That too."

He put his mug down on the table. "Huh. So, hypothetically, you can tell the future?"

"No," Velia shook her head, "Well…not really. Not, like, lottery numbers, you’ll die tomorrow, Haikus-"

"Haikus?"

“Don’t ask. My point is, it’s not like a prophesy. It’s intuition. The cards give you a glimpse at something, focus your ideas, but it’s up to you to do the legwork.’

"Then why bother?... Is it to do with why ever you’ve been a little-"

She shut her eyes and sighed out, resting her head back against the wall.

"Maybe? I’ve had some dreams. Nothing bad or scary. Last night it was about you. Remember, that night when you’d just gotten here, and we talked after you'd left the campfire?"

He nodded. "I know the one. But I mentioned what you said to me then, last night. Maybe that’s why you dreamed about it."

She smiled at that, nodding, but it felt like she was reassuring him rather than herself “I know, that’s probably it. This is just for…I don’t know. Peace of mind? A starting point? Something to do.”

She looked down at the three cards out in front of her as she finished her tea.

"So what does your intuition tell you about these, then?" August looked at the cards. The one lying in the middle seemed nice. Two people stood toasting one-another with goblets. The other two though? Less pretty.

Vel tapped that middle card with a short, neat fingernail.

"Two of cups. It represents Unity or, like, a connection. It could be a partnership or an exchange, or co-dependency, if you're being cynical." She glanced up at him, scoffing at his scepticism. "Don’t give me that look, I know It’s not exactly precise. But it _could_ mean, if the other two cards represent people, that they're connected somehow."

“Ok.” He grimaced a little, looking at the other two cards. “Got to say, they don’t seem like a fun couple. The eight of swords, right?’

This card showed a woman tied up and blindfolded, with swords driven into the ground all around her. But it faced the other way from the other two.

"Right. Yeah, she might be me. See, right way up it means self-victimisation or being trapped. But see, she’s upside down? Reversed, she represents survival. Finding your own way out. Or surrender maybe. Again, she’s vague, but all in all not too bad. Ergo, she’s maybe me.” 

August nodded. That sounded like Velia. She was self-sufficient- she’d carved out her own role at camp and she made her own money. Plus she’d proven that she was hard to kill, so a survivor sounded about right.

“Are you usually her? Like are some people always a specific one?”

That made her think. “ _Sometimes_. Hamish always draws cups. Trip gets the Page of Pentacles whenever we’ve done stuff with the coven.” She pulled an apologetic face. “I know it sounds like bull, but I learnt all of this alongside sewing, when I’d just gotten here and I wasn’t very mobile. It’s comforting. Makes me feel like I’ve got some control.”

August could appreciate comfort in routine. To this day he still cleaned his sneakers and got out his clothes for the next day before bed, the same as he had every day in New Rome.

"It’s not bull. Not if it helps you. So, if you’re the Eight of Swords then the two of cups means that you’re connected to…The Hangman? If you say that’s me, I’ll cry."

That made her smile again.

“It isn’t. At least I don’t think it is. Although.” She lowered her eyes in mock-seduction, “I’m glad that you think we have a connection.” That set them both off laughing. On paper they were probably a good match, but no. Just, no. They were as platonic as he and Jason had been, and he and Paul were now. Once they’d both calmed down, she continued.

“Besides, just because a card isn’t obviously good doesn’t mean that it’s bad.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “Vel, he’s tied to a tree.”

She disregarded his sarcastic tone. “Exactly. He’s suffered. But he’s… I don’t know how to explain it. Sacrificial? No, that's not it. It meant something. Maybe he’s waiting. Biding his time. See, his eyes are open. He’s aware. Eventually it might mean release.”

“Alright, not so bad.” August looked at the Hangman’s open eyes, the one leg hanging free, “Who is he then?”

Vel shrugged, “I have my theories. But I think you’re safe.”

“Promise?”

“Only one way to find out,“ She gathered up the cards and fanned them out in front of him. “Any results being purely hypothetical. Humour me?”

Purely Hypothetical was a joke between the two of them. They said it whenever Velia was trying to do or talk about magic stuff, so that she could sound off of him without him having to admit that it was real.

Making a big deal of huffing and rolling his eyes, he nevertheless took his time picking the cards, running his finger over the edge of the deck. As instructed, he took three. One for the past, one for the present and one for the future. She lined up the cards he chose neatly in front of him.

Jason would have liked Vel, he’d always thought. They both had that same quiet confidence and sadness, and a sardonic sense of humour that a lot of people missed.

She turned up the first card. "The three of Pentacles." It showed a man and two boys, leaning over a work bench together.

"It means teamwork and strength through unity. Sometimes like an apprenticeship." August’s throat tightened a little. If that didn’t sum up his childhood, he didn’t know what did. He and Jason under Bagshaw, and later as members of the legion.

“Sounds about right.’ Neither of them needed to elaborate. Velia was the only one of their friends who knew about him being seen by Bagshaw and why he'd left without talking to him. He’d spent the last five years feeling a little guilty, for seemingly having replaced Jason and Bagshaw with the Parkers. That’s why he used to be uncomfortable when Rick offered him help, or advice.

But then, when Bagshaw had seen him, finally giving him an opportunity to explain himself or even go back, he’d been afraid.That’s when he’d realised, he could never go back to New Rome. He wasn’t Roman anymore. He’d become such a different person; he didn't think he could change back and he didn’t know what he could say to Bagshaw to make anything make sense. There was no easy way to deal with it but that didn’t mean he wasn’t guilty that he’d not tried.

He shook the thoughts out of his head. He’d come to make sure Velia was OK. It shouldn't turn into a therapy session for him. Velia had done that for him too often already.

He turned over his second card. The present.

“I take it back. I’ll be the hangman.’

Velia threw her head back and howled laughing. He gave her a light shove and as close as he could muster to his ‘wolf stare’ (as she called it. Paul just called it his ‘radgey roman’ look.)

“C’mon Vel. How can this possibly have a positive spin on it?”

He’d drawn Death. It showed the grim reaper, a young man reaching up to embrace him.

“Are you dead right now?’ she poked him with her toe. ‘Have you died since drawing the card? No, you haven’t because It’s _not literal August_. You don’t draw the ten of swords and get stabbed ten times. Probably. Maybe emotionally. Point is, Death isn’t bad, it just represents a change in states. The card means a transition. A new cycle starting. Which sounds about right for a guy in his first year of college, right?’

He had to hand it to her, she made it sound OK, so Rather than give her the satisfaction of an answer he turned up the last card: The future.

“Four of…wands?” It showed two girls dancing under wreaths, in front of a castle. It seemed _nice_ , and Vel clearly agreed.

“See? Stability, and reunion and belonging. All good things,” She smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. She looked almost envious, for a second, but then who knew with Velia? “You have a good future, if you choose to believe in it. Or at least you would if this wasn't purely hypothetical.”

The teasing tone had crept back into her voice. Before he could think of a decent comeback, though Velia’s cell phone buzzed. She picked it up and swung her feet onto the floor.

“Crap, sorry August, I’m going to have to love you and leave you here. I said I’d go and meet Hamish from the Station and his train gets in twenty minutes. I’m going to get him on Audrey, since he’s only got a little bag.”

Audrey was Velia’s scooter. They’d gotten it dirt cheap, and it was so old that it walked a line between vintage and piece of junk. It broke down constantly, and her favourite line was that it was held together by Tripta and willpower. But for Velia’s independence, it was a godsend.

“Hey! You didn’t pick me or Tripta up from the Train station.”

She pulled her shoes on. “You and Tripta didn’t ask me to.”

“Fair enough.”

It might be just as well. Hamish was always better at getting Velia to talk about things. They were close, so hopefully Hamish would know how to help her.

As he pulled on his own shoes his eyes were drawn to the card hanging up on the wall. ‘What does she mean?’

“Hmm?” Vel followed where she was looking. “Oh.”

She got that sad half-smile on her face and a faraway look in her eyes. For a moment she was unknowable. But as soon as it was there it was gone.

‘The Star. She’s hope.’

PERCY

That night Percy was faced with a recent memory.

It was maybe a week after the giant war had ended and and everything was just starting to wind down, making for a weird atmosphere. People feeling happy and grateful to be alive was offset by the anger and grief that not everyone had.

He’d ran into Jason while on a late-night walk. The curfew harpies weren’t back on the clock yet since the Romans had just left. He’d been awake because he dreamed of Tartarus, while Jason was awake because he dreamed of Leo. They were only fit company for each other.

They’d been walking in Silence for a while when Jason started talking, quickly and urgently, like the words were alight and he had to cast them out before they burned him from the inside out. It was probably the most he’d ever heard Jason speak, uninterrupted. He told him about New Rome, how it was home, but it was also so stifling and he still felt conflicted about not going back. How he didn’t feel quite Roman anymore but that didn’t neccessarily make him Greek.

And about Leo.

Percy would never have said so, but he hadn’t really _liked_ Leo before his death. It wasn’t because he hadn’t known very long: after all he’d met Jason and Piper at the same time and they were all bros. But the way Leo made jokes that hadn’t sat well with Percy. He got _why_ Leo did it. After all, he’d used humour to fight off Bullies at a long list of boarding schools. But Percy had been able to read a room, and more than that, he'd never punched down. Leo did.

But when Jason talked about Leo, about their friendship: them building the Argo II, playing on idiot mode on the old PlayStation, making Nachos over a Bunsen burner, and sneaking past the harpies so they could sleep in Bunker Nine, when Cabin One felt too lonely. Listening to him talk, Percy didn’t just regret Leo dying, he regretted not knowing him better beforehand.

“-well in short we almost died and blew up half the camp, because Buford the table was a fussy little-“

‘ _Mherrrrreh’_

Percy stopped in his tracks. It was a sort of groaning noise coming from the woods. Granted the woods always made weird noises, but this one sounded close. Jason hadn’t even really registered it.

‘-And I remember all these good things but then I remember he’s gone and Percy, it _hurts._ My memories were gone for so long, that a lot of them just stuck to the back of my mind. But losing him was like a trigger. I’m not just remembering Leo, I’m remembering all this other stuff that I’d not thought about for months. This is so similar, to when I lost-

_‘BREAAGMhahaha’_

Jason stopped that time. They stood still, until they heard it again. It was somewhere between a bleat and a groan. Jason pointed to where the noise seemed to be coming from and looked back to Percy, who nodded, raising a finger to his lip. The two of them turned their swords into swords as quietly as possible and started towards the woods, following the noise to find…

Grover?

He was leant back at an awkward angle, one of his horns lodged into a tree so he couldn’t really move. They’d grown longer since Percy had been away.

‘G-Man?’

‘Percy? Perce!’

Grover grinned, and tried to pull himself away from the tree, but he was firmly lodged in there. Jason, for his part looked confused. The two had only once or twice, and Grover had been there in his capacity as Lord of the Wild, not…whatever this was.

“What…,” Percy was trying his hardest not to laugh but between Grover in the tree and Jason’s face, he was losing that battle. “Dude, how?”

He blushed bright red. “I was visiting Juniper. But I left my bag in the big house, so I tried to walk back, and I tripped in the dark and, uh. Yeah.” He awkwardly gestured to his head.

That was when Percy lost it. Grover started laughing pretty soon after. Then Jason, although he still seemed a little bewildered. They stood laughing, doubled over with their hands on their sides. Percy hadn’t laughed that hard since before he’d fallen. Jason, since Leo had gone. 

Percy had loved Jason, in a way that was difficult to explain. They had understood each other, since they’d lived parallel lives. But Grover _knew_ Percy in a way that only time, and timing, and genuinely liking each other could.

The three of them had kept on laughing as they'd gone to figure out how best to separate Grover and the tree without breaking anything or ticking off any dryads.

Percy felt a pang in his heart when the laughter he knew faded into some that he didn’t. He missed hearing Jason laugh.

But then Percy remembered what Jason had been saying, before he was cut off. ‘ _It’s just so similar, to when I lost-‘,_ He thought he might know now, what Jason had been about to say. Who he’d been about to tell him about.

It shifted.

He found himself in a tiny bedroom. It had wooden walls, and the single bed, closet and bedside table were more than enough to fill it. There were three people inside. Augustus, and his friend Velia were stood at the door. Augustus was trying his damdest to keep a straight face, blushing beet red and avoiding eye contact at all costs. Velia though, was laughing so hard that she had to lean both hands on her cane to stay upright.

Rather than Grover, they laughed at the other girl from his dreams. She was wearing a bathrobe, and her long, black curls were stuck on a Lego spaceship dangling on the ceiling above her head.

"Well he can fuck right off," She pointed an accusatory finger at August, who looked too uncomfortable to be offended.

Velia composed herself for a second and raised her arms as if in surrender.

“In my defence, he was with me when you were banging on the wall, shouting "Bring him with you Vel!”

“Because I thought _him_ was Hamish. It’s usually Hamish, with you. If I’d known that him was _him_ I’d have said come alone!”

“I didn’t think it would matter! You didn’t say you were naked.”

“I said bring a robe! Nudity was implied.”

Choking back her laugh, Velia put a calming hand on Tripta’s face.

‘Hey, hey. It’s just as well. I can’t reach.’

She was right. Velia wasn’t very tall, and Tripta very much was. If she needed the cane for support, she probably couldn’t reach up that far up without losing her balance. August walked up slowly, as if he were approaching a wild animal.

“May I?”

Tripta didn’t answer. She took a long, haughty look at Augustus, which reminded Percy of they way Zoe Nightshade used to look at him. Like she couldn’t believe that she’d been lowered enough to have this conversation.

“Hamish isn’t here. If you won’t let August, would you rather I got Paul to untangle you? Because everyone else is at the girl’s night that we’re currently really late to.”

With a shocking amount of cold dignity for someone in such a stupid situation, she told August to,

‘Proceed.’

He set about to untangling her.

“You have a lot of Star Trek Legos.”

“And you have weirdly small hands. See? We can both make observations. And it’s Star Wars. Fuck you. Not a word of this to Paul or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Velia was still smirking, but Augustus had kept himself under control. Probably because he was still within hitting distance. She lay herself down on the bed, watching Augustus at work.

“Tell me how this happened, and I’ll consider it.”

Tripta closed her eyes, embarrassed, and took a deep breath. “I was re-enacting the Mamma Mia scene from Mamma Mia-“

“Naked?”

“Fuck you Augustus. Yes. Naked. And I may have hair tossed a bit to aggressively and – Oh for fucks sakes, just laugh. Its funny.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. It wasn’t long before Tripta, finally unravelled joined in and the three of them collapsed on the bed, laughing, the two girls clinging onto each other as they did.

\----

Percy loved having Grover back at Camp Half Blood. He loved the easy conversation, and the old jokes, and the fact if he was here in front of Percy then he wasn’t dying a horrible death in California.

But the problem with the people who know you best is that they also know when something was up with you, and when you were full of crap.

Within maybe ten minutes of reuniting, Grover asked him what was wrong.

Not how he was, or _if_ anything was up, just ‘Perce, what’s wrong?’ As in, he knew that it was something.

The empathy link was mostly gone by now but little fragments of feelings came through sometimes, if something was really wrong or if he let his mind wander. He might feel a pang of fear in the night, a moment of calm in the middle of a class, a sadness that almost made him cry despite him not knowing why. But that was irrelevant, because Grover was three feet away from him, annoyingly perceptive and looking him straight in the face.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell Grover- he really wanted to tell him. Whenever he was bothered his brain went to Grover first. But how did he say he was having dreams about Jason’s dead sort-of brother and his new set of friends- and hey! He’s in a third camp, with all sorts of demigods in it that we don’t know how to handle, and they probably know about us and not huge fans of the gods! Ethically how much of this should I tell his grieving foster-father who thinks he’s going crazy?

He didn’t. Because telling Grover what was wrong meant admitting that something was wrong. Admitting a problem made him responsible for it. He still couldn’t work out what he was meant to do about this or how the hell any of this was his problem. So, he was going to keep it under his hat until he absolutely couldn’t and think about it as little as possible and not burden anyone else with it.

He just wanted one good vacation. One stint at camp where something didn’t go horribly wrong. Where he didn’t put his friends at risk or scare his mom half to death.

His bar for a good winter break was depressingly low.

In the space between the cabins about a dozen of the younger kids were having an elaborate snowball fight, with Nico as a reluctant referee. For all he tried to keep up his dark, broody image, they had identified him as a soft touch and followed him around. He complained and tried to pretend he was there against his will, but still he could call all of them by name.

“Keith, no magic, it’s an unfair advantage. Same with those tree defences Becky. Its cheating- ALLISON PUT IT DOWN! It’s a snowball fight, not a rock-“ He took a hit. “Good shot Pete.”

It made him smile. Nico had been a kid like that once. It’s a shame that it hadn’t lasted longer, and good that he could get back to that now.

“We were that age when we met.”

Grover gave his little bleating laugh. “You were that age. I was twenty-four.”

“Still”, Percy rolled his eyes ,“in satyr years you were a kid. I can’t believe we were that young. I mean, we went cross country, alone, went to hell and fought a god. Are you telling me that when I did all that, I looked like that?”

He pointed to a boy and girl, who’d broken away from the fight to try and shove each other into a little snow drift that had built up. The boy’s hoodie was a couple of sizes too big for him, and the laces of his sneakers were undone and black from being dragged through the mud.

“You did. Maybe not as short. Definity scrawnier though.” He joked, and then turned thoughtful, “But you’ve always carried the weight of the world on your shoulders. Even then.”

Huh. He’d never really thought about it, but he guessed Grover was right. He’d had a lot on his mind for as long as he could remember. He wondered how many of these kids were the same. Or maybe, since they were here, they could be spared that. He wondered who he’d be if he’d spent his summers here training and playing, rather than avoiding Gabe in the apartment and doing odd jobs to try and earn his keep.

It was pointless to dwell.

“But, hey, man. It’s over.” Grover rested a hand on his shoulder. “We can rest now. Right? We’ve earned it.”

He roped his arm over Grover’s shoulder.

“Yeah, we have.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Foreshadowing. Foreshadowing all over the place. Also I miss Grover. Honestly, rick needs to let the children grieve and let them rest. The next two chapters are when the dreams get serious, and the plot very much thickens. Thankyou all very much for reading, and for making it this far in the story. Any feedback is good feedback, honestly I've had some loevely comments and they've really inspired me to write more. Thankyou so much, and see you next sunday!


	5. The Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Partnership. Choices. Balance.  
> Annabeth Comes back to camp, and back into Percy's dreams, which are starting to get a little more worrying. Perhaps they aren't as one sided as they'd thought.  
> Meanwhile, Hamish has come back to the woods, and August's little familly is finally complete. Things look good, that is untill Velia starts to act strange.

**THE LOVERS**

_Partnership. Choices. Balance_.

PERCY

When he fell asleep that night Percy found himself in the auditorium of a school he’d never attended. He’d forgotten its name. It was the night that they’d been sent to pick up the Di Angelo’s.

Everything had gone horribly wrong that night, but it hadn’t yet in the dream. Instead he was just in time to watch Thalia drag Grover onto the dance floor.

“Come, on goat boy.”

That left him alone with Annabeth, fourteen years old and _really_ awkward, which only got worse after Thalia shouted at the two of them to dance.

_“Well?”_

_“Um. Who should I ask?”_

Maybe the dreams were someone’s attempt to kill him through second-hand embarrassment. He was amazed that Annabeth didn’t hit him… oh, wait, never mind, she did. Right in the gut. Oof. Was he really that oblivious? Or were some things were only obvious with hindsight.

_“Me, Seaweed brain!”_

_“Ow! Right”_

Even knowing the terrible things that were about to happen, and the cringe of watching himself awkwardly shuffling on the dance floor, it was nice. Like watching a home movie, it made him feel kind of warm inside, watching himself blush bright red and not know where to put his hands.

Annabeth could still make him blush, but now he was very clear as to where to put his hands.

He braced himself for what would happen next. Coming away from the dance, facing Dr Thorne the Manticore, and watching Annabeth fall from the cliffside. Seeing Nico so young and innocent, before the world had a chance to hurt him. Seeing Bianca and being unable to shake the feeling that he’d failed her.

He was almost relieved when the scene shifted.

Instead of the auditorium, with Jesse McCartney blaring from tinny speakers, he was in a long room, with old chairs and armchairs pushed back around wooden walls lined with posters. Instead of bored students and a few awkward slow dancers, these the kids were all crammed together moving enthusiasticly, with a lot of spinning and clapping.

He recognised Paul and Tripta, from his other dreams, among the dancers. They looked young here, only as old as Percy in his own memory. A lot of them were dressed kind of eccentrically. Tripta had on a beaded crop top with a pair of baggycargo pants, while Paul wore an elaborately embroidered waistcoat with his sweats. There were Corsets, shirts with those weird Russian collars and one guy had a green coat so long and full that it flared out like a dress when he spun. It made for a weird scene, but they seemed to be having more fun than Percy ever had at a school dance.

Once he’d adjusted to the change of scene, he realised that he couldn’t see Augustus. Instead he focused in on Augustus’ friend Velia, who was sat on a couch talking to a guy with red hair and a crooked nose, watching the dancing. The guy he stood up, obviously nervous. He was tall for his age, and broad, wearing an old band tee under a kilt. He offered his hands to Velia.

“Dance with me?”

For a second, she looked surprised, but then she smiled, straightening her necklace and let him pull her up. 

“I’m warning you right now, I have two left feet.” The boy said, offering Velia a crooked smile.

She shrugged. “Well I don’t have any, so we can balance each other out.” They both laughed, and pushed through to a relatively empty spot at the back of the room

The others kept one hand on their partners waist and the other held aloft, but Velia grasped each of his forearms for support and they moved at their own pace. After a while, they got a little silly with it. He did jumps, and spun her around, as she laughed, the whole time.

When Percy woke up, he felt warm and happy for a minute. Maybe him and his friends were older now, and they’d suffered more since, but they still found these moments of happiness. That had been the first time he’d danced with Annabeth, but it hadn’t been the last. He remembered what Grover had said to him yesterday. They could rest now.

But then his brain caught up with his feelings.

Augustus wasn’t in that dream. Not just in the sense that he wasn’t the focus, he hadn’t even been in that room. By that logic he wasn’t watching Augustus’ memories. Then who’s were they? Breathing slowly, he forced himself to think it through. Who had featured in each of the dreams that he’d had so far?

The girl. Velia.

He racked his brain for how he could know her but came up blank. There was something familiar about her, something about her eyes, but he just couldn’t make the connection. Something was trying to show them what they had in common.

AUGUSTUS

“Hang on, the recipe said to sift the flour, not to bung it all in at once.”

The guys had a tried and tested system for baking. Hamish read out the recipe, since he wasn’t dyslexic, and washed the dishes as they went along. August measured out the ingredients and Paul did the rest.

Augustus pulled a face. “Does it make a difference?” The other two shrugged. Paul called out to Tripta.

“Hey, Tript? Do you know about the flour?”

She looked up from whatever it was that the girls were doing. “Why would I?”

“Because your dad cooks for a living and hopefully taught you things?”

She rolled her eyes. “Vegetarian events catering- not a Bakery. Actually, he did go through weird baking phase when Arun moved out. Still, I wasn’t paying attention. Sorry Aug.”

“It probably doesn’t matter,” Velia chimed in, helpfully.

"Nah, I read somewhere that it’s got something to do with the texture.”

“I didn’t know Paul could read.” Tripta chimed in, unhelpfully.

In response Paul flicked a handful of flour at where she was sat, with the other four members of their coven, doing something with Tarot cards and candles and crystals. Unfortunately, it wound up more in Anushka’s hair and Velia’s blouse than it did on Tripta.

" _PARKER._ " Six voices snapped in unison. Trip tore off the couch in their defence, dipping one of her hands in the flour, to August’s horror (he’d have to remeasure it), she chased Paul in loops around the table. A couple of the newer kids looked kind of scared and confused by these two college-aged kids running around like toddlers but those who’d lived here while Tripta and Paul were in regular residence barely looked up. This was standard fare.

Hamish gave him a look and an eyeroll as if to say, ‘some things don’t change.’ He took off his reading glasses and laid them down.

Paul once said, after a few drinks, that with Hamish, _'you caught happiness off of him like a cold’_ and August kind of got what he meant. Hamish Barrow didn’t have Paul’s easy charm, or Tripta’s prickly magnetism (was that a thing? It should be.) He wasn’t especially handsome, with his crooked nose, and chipped front tooth, and freckles. But there was just something about Hamish that you _liked._ Tripta and Hamish had both come here when they started middle school. Their friendship reminded him of a video he’d seen once, about Cheetah’s in captivity being given Labradors to keep them calm. The group worked just fine without him, but it was better when he was there. He filled in the gaps between them, just by being himself. He was just earnest. He took an interest in things _._ He was honest and he was kind. Impressive traits for a kid raised by a counterfeiter and a thief.

Hamish’s mother was a daughter of Hermes, who’d grown up into an art thief. He'd been an unwanted complication in her life, especially since his Father had been a roman demigod, so she could't leave the Half-Greek kid with him without potentially triggering the god's split personality thing, eighteen years older. So instead Hamish had been raised by his uncle, who did high quality forgeries. He didn't see much of his mother, unless she wanted his or his uncles help but that was probably for the best. By all accounts she wasn't a nurturing woman. But his Uncle Jamie was a nice, if a little eccentric, leaving Hamish to grow up in a hideaway-apartment in Glasgow, lined with old novels and smelling of ink and oil paints.

His scent was weak, but he still needed somewhere to go to school and to mix with other kids where he didn’t have to hide, and he wasn’t allowed in either camp. Hamish Barrow was the case study for how the Woods could be a lifeline.

By now the Girl’s coven had dispersed. Trip had Paul pinned to the floor and was rubbing flour into his face. Meanwhile Hamish had gone to brush the flour off of Velia’s blouse, a black one with white polka dots and a big floppy bow at the collar. He was so much bigger than her that it was almost funny to see him squatting in front her with his massive, careful hands.

The two of them were close. Augustus never knew how much he coud read into that.

Hamish said something he couldn’t quite hear, and it made Velia laugh again. She showed him what they’d been doing with the cards. August wandered over to have a look too. It was the same three cards as yesterday: The Hangman, the Two of Cups, and the Eight of Swords.

“These ones again?”

“Yeah, I’ve only been drawing these guys for weeks now.” She shrugged, like ‘ _what you going to do about it?_ ’ and set to packing her cards away.

“Any Verdict on the flour mate?” Hamish asked him.

Velia just rolled her eyes. “No verdict needed. Go bake your cake. And somebody prise Paul and Tripta apart before someone gets hurt, or it gets freaky and they traumatise someone. Either way they’ll have to clean the floor.”

Hamish and August raised their hands in mock salute and Tripta took her elbow off Paul’s neck. Suitably chastised he got up and joined them, to finish their baking.

\---

They’d been to the dancing that night, like they did every Friday. In summer, when nights were short and the weather was good, it could last until dawn, but in the weeks leading up to Yule, it was cold and there was too much to do. That's why the party burnt short and bright. Most people had gone to bed, leaving the five of them in the empty common room.

At some point he and Tripta had traded Jackets. She had on his tweed blazer, with a couple of flowers in the buttonhole at Velia’s insistence. He was wearing Tripta’s bright orange, cropped, military jacket, covered in gold braid. According to Paul he looked like a sergeant pepper stripper-gram, which was big talk from a man wearing a Hawaiian shirt under a regency-style coat.

Velia had fallen asleep on Hamish’s shoulder, on one of the beaten-up couches. Paul and Tripta were unsuccessfully trying to teach August to do some folk-dance (he’d already forgotten its name) and roasted him all the while. Hamish half-heartedly shushed them every few minutes, but it was no use. They were having fun, and besides, Velia slept like the dead.

Eventually he'd tripped and fallen, bringing him and Paul crashing to the floor. While August stood up, Paul rolled onto his back looking pensive.

“Mate, I’m so sorry.”

That had him confused. “Sorry for what? It’s not your fault I’m no good at this.”

“What? No not that, you daft sod. I’m sorry about your life.”

“Oof, Parker that is c _old_.” Tripta chimed in, still cackling. She’d thrown herself over the arm of the couch and started to play with the end of one of Velia’s trailing, lace sleeves. The blouse was like something a princess in a storybook would wear, except she wore it with grey, pin-striped pants.

“No, I meant, that you’re here. Not in New Rome or something like that. Like, if you weren’t here, you’d have had, medals and honours and all that. And you’d have your Foster-dad man and live in a proper building. And I love you, I really fucking love you mate. I love having you here, but I’m sorry that you have to be here. You get me?”

Oh. _Oh._

He looked at the other two, expecting them to tell Paul he was being ridiculous, but instead they tactfully avoided eye contact. Velia kept sleeping. She looked like Snow White if Snow White had drooled a little.

August knelt next to him on the floor and wrapped a tentative arm around Paul.

“Don’t be a moron. You know, when I was at Jason’s funeral, I saw Bagshaw. The uh…Foster dad man? Did you call him? And he saw me,”

He might have imagined it, but he could have sworn that Hamish stiffened then and glanced quickly at Velia rested on his shoulder. He kept going.

“He properly saw me. And my instinct wasn’t to run to him. To go to him and go back to Rome. I was panicked. Because for better of for worse I wasn’t the person that he raised anymore. And I felt so selfish for it, but I couldn’t stand the idea of staying there and not coming back . I couldn’t leave you, or Velia, or your dad, or Hamish. I even thought, then, that I would miss Tripta.”

“Well, why wouldn't you?”

“Common sense. The point is, I didn’t know how to live there anymore. Jason is gone. Most of the people I knew will have grown up and changed as much as I have. I know how to live here, though. I’m Happy here. Never mind honours. I’m your friend.” He looked over at the three on the couch, and then back to Paul, “And I’m your brother. That’s all the honours I need.”

“...Oh my god, get up here you soft shites.”

That’s how August had ended up crammed onto the couch in a tangle of limbs and slightly tipsy, very manly, crying. And Velia, still asleep. After a while a Question slipped out of August.

“What about you guys.”

“Huh?” Somehow it had wound up with Paul leaning back on Tripta, against the arm of the couch. Any excuse to get closer.

“Do you never regret the life not lived? What could you have been if we hadn't wound up here? Like, if Paul had gone to the Greek camp and you two had wound up in Camp Jupiter. Have you never thought what it would have been like?"

Paul shook his head, the doubt that had riddled him ten minutes ago gone. “Fuck no. Why would I? Leave my home where I’ve always been happy and my familly who love me? And for what? To not be taken seriously because I'm the son of Aphrodite, even though I've never met her, and then be expected to live and die for Olympus anyway. Not a chance.”

That was fair. People ragged on Camp Jupiter because it they thought it was too harsh and militaristic. People didn’t like camp Half-blood because of the importance they placed on who your godly parent was. They both got criticised because they provided a limited life experience.

Still, with Paul it was a little more personal than that. His dad, had only been twenty-two when he'd met Aphrodite. Patrick loved his son, more than anything and wouldn't have given him up for anything. Paul knew that, but it didn’t mean he wasn't mad on his behalf, or even blamed himself a little that his dad's life hadn't turned out as he planned. Dumb as it was, it explained a lot about Paul’s insecurities: his refusal to go after Trip, and his worries that August saw him as a poor substitute for his old life. Poor guy.

“Tripta?”

She let out a low whistle.

“Well that’s a difficult question. Clearly, by now I would be a highly decorated Senator, maybe even a Praetor, entertaining a string of lovers-”

“You would be in a sack of weasels in the Little Tiber within three weeks.”

“Hey! Not necessarliy. I'm a cut-throat bitch so unless I was, like, assassinated, I reckon I could go pretty far. But even then, I don't rhink I'd want to go. I don't want to be so far from my family. Besides I’d be repairing identical Gladius’s swords day in and day out, which is no fun at all.”

August had stayed with Tripta and her family last summer, while he was looking at a college in Manchester. It had been nice. Her grandma had been watching soap operas in the living room, while her younger brother sat on the couch with her, pretending to do homework. In the kitchen Her older brother and dad had made dinner, singing along to the radio while her mom, an Engineering professor, marked assignments at the table.

He didn’t go to college there, in the end, but Tripta did. Like the Parkers’ flat, It was the kind of warm, happy home that you didn’t want to leave.

“Besides,” She said after a little bit of deliberation, “I’m quite fond of Greek boys. I don’t know if I could give that up.”

Paul flushed red and nestled back against her, confident in the knowlege that they wouldn’t talk about it, come the morning.

“How about you, Hamish?”

He scrunched up his nose, thoughtful. “In this hypothetical version of events, does camp Half-Blood accept legacies?”

“Nope", Tripta decided for them, "because I’d need someone with me in Camp Jupiter, so I don’t piss of anyone important. So rather than thievery you’re raised under the influence of whoever made you an _absolute unit_.”

Hamish’s mom and uncle both had tall but rangey, Hermes-esque builds. Hamish was six-four with a chest like a barrel. Ergo, all they knew about his dad was that he was _big._

Before Hamish could answer, Velia’s hands suddenly shot out and grabbed his arm.

She sat bolt upright, gasping, her eyes wide and terrified. She was shaking. Hamish guided her to lean forwards, and she started taking deep, shuddering breaths with her head between her knees. She kept her vice grip on his arm, all the while.

“Get back! give her some bloody air.“ Tripta, barked at him and Paul. She’d immediately gotten up to get a glass of water and a bowl, which she placed under Velia’s bowed head, _Just in case, ok babe?_

That knocked Paul out of his shock. He pulled August up off the couch and shepherded him out of the room with his hands on his shoulders.

August couldn’t look away. He just watched, dumbstruck. Velia was always calm, like a still lake. If there was anything going on it never touched the surface. This was a girl who looked put together traipsing through the rain and mud. To see her like this, panicked and vulnerable, really freaked him out.

Once they were outside, the cold biting his face, he got a hold of himself, and tried to go back inside but Paul stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

“No. We’d best leave them to this.” 

“She’s our- she’s your cousin, and she’s upset, and you just want to leave her?”

He’d said it like an accusation, but Paul didn’t rise to the bait. “Of course, I don’t want to leave her, but August, it’s about trust. If she wants us, she’ll tell us, I can trust that. Trust that she knows what she needs. But _she_ trusts _me_ not to push. That doesn’t mean that _we_ ," He emphasised the word, making it clear he meant August too, “aren’t her family. It means that she needs to keep some parts of her life separate, and we need to make sure she can. We don’t have to like it. But we love Velia and Velia comes with her secrets. You Understand?”

Paul kept his eyes on Augustus. All the Parkers had, the same brown eyes, so deep that they were almost black, that went from warm to piercing in a heartbeat.

No, Augustus didn’t like it, but then he thought of his friends from college. What they knew about his home life was as vague as what he knew about Velia’s life beyond the camp. He had to trust that they wouldn’t question him on his school or his ‘foster family.’ He hated it, but he understood.

He nodded.

Paul sighed, relieved. “Good. C’mon. Let’s go to bed. And we’ll forget about it all tomorrow.”

Maybe it wasn’t responsible, but ignorance sounded appealing. Augustus followed him to bed.

PERCY JACKSON

_“This is…incredible”_

_“Only the best for you,”_ Percy had said, ” _And you thought I forgot.”_

In Percy’s dream he was in Paris. It was a month after his sixteenth birthday. Hermes had sent him and Annabeth, as reward for retrieving his lost Caduceus. It was a beautiful night. The city, the weather, the meal (the likes of which he wouldn’t be able to afford for himself until he was in his thirties at least) and the girl he was with; everything had been beautiful.

_“You did forget, seaweed brain. Nice save though, I’m impressed.”_

_“I have my moment’s.”_

_“You certainly do.”_

He watched Annabeth reach out and hold his hands in the dream.

Here in the present, She’d arrived at camp at about ten in the morning, having hitched a ride cross country with the huntress of Artemis. He’d jokingly asked her if Reyna and Thalia had finally managed to recruit her, seeing as the Huntresses had been trying since she was seven. But Annabeth just laughed and said she would miss him too much.

 _Well._ She’d said, once she kissed him, _I’d definitely miss that._

It was at that point Thalia had lobbed a snowball at them.

It was good to have them both home.

So far, the dream didn’t have him particularly worried. He remembered this night. Four months after this he would wake up in California, not knowing who he was but for now, everything was happy. It was a _good_ memory.

_“How about we go for that walk. I want to explore Paris with a beautiful girl.”_

The dream didn’t start to shift until they had set off along the Seine. He was sad to see the memory fade, but not afraid. Maybe he should have been, because he didn’t have a clue who she was, but Velia’s memories always ran parallel to his own. By that logic, he shouldn’t see anything worse than Velia on a date.

He was proven right.

She and the boy from the dream last night, Hamish, were sat on the steps outside a little Café. An old lady was handing a polaroid camera back to Hamish, speaking in rapid-fire…Italian? He smiled, and nodded, and repeated _grazie._

Once she’d gone, Hamish turned back to Velia, who was shaking the little photo.

“Any clue what she just said?”

“I thought you spoke some Italian?”

“Aye, thieves Italian, same as my thieves French, Portuguese and Spanish. I can barter, swear that a painting’s authentic, and say that _chiedo di parlare con il mio avvocato.”_

That cracked Velia up. They both seemed older in this dream, maybe Sixteen.

“You want to speak to your lawyer?”

“I _demand_ to speak to my lawyer.”

“You don’t _have_ a lawyer.”

“Interpol don’t know that. That’s when I call my favourite witch to come get me. Speaking of who, I thought you knew Italian?”

She snorted. “Kind of? But I can’t remember a time when I used it conversationally, and she was talking fast, with one hell of an accent. I only got like, three words of that. _Beautiful couple_ , I think she kept saying? _Bella Coppia_.”

He blushed bright red at that and nodded towards a couple zipping by on a Scooter.

“Shame you dinnea have yours with you. Could have given Audrey Hepburn a run for her money.”

She rolled her eyes, but still looked a little pleased by the comparison. This was probably the most Percy had heard her talk in one go. She seemed so relaxed here. 

“It would break down on the heat. I mean it’s a godsend, since it’s the only thing I can drive myself in, but it’s held together by sheer willpower, and the magical hands of Tripta.”

She closed her eyes and tipped her head back to face the sun.

Like him and Annabeth, they just looked like another couple on vacation. He was wearing cargo shorts and a tee shirt, she had on a sleeveless blouse and a pair of polka-dotted hot pants. They seemed totally normal if you ignored the axe strapped to his back, or the little knife on her thigh.

After a minute she spoke again.

“What are we looking for here anyway?”

“Not sure. Just an old friend of my Uncle, said he'd seen some weird things going on, and it smelled greek.” He shrugged, “I don't how much we can trust a saytr who sells magic mushrooms-"

"Wait like the drugs?"

"No, I mean mushrooms used for literal magic. I met him once when I was ten. They glow in the dark and I swear one bit me. At least it’s one of the nicer places we’ve wound up together.”

“I wouldn’t say that. You know how much I love a Magic market. Still, this is good too. Only question is, what do we do until we find it.”

“Well, what would we be doing here if you weren’t us, d’you think?”

“Huh?”

“I mean if we weren’t here because of gods or monsters. We were just _here_.” He took the photo and looked hard at it. “What would you think of these two if you just saw them on the street. Other than ‘ _t_ _hat lad is punching well above his weight_.’”

She lightly slapped his arm, looking annoyed. “No one would think that. They’d see that he was tall, and had nice hands-“

“Weird thing to notice about a stranger.”

“Hamish, shut up and let be nice. So even if the girl tended to be pretty aloof, they would look at them, on a school trip or a weekend break or something like that, and they’d see” She tapped the photo, “That she liked him at least as much as he liked her. Because it should be obvious.”

He huffed, a little embarrassed, and pushed his hair back from his face. While Velia had tanned in the sun, he’d just burnt and gotten frecklier.

“If I wasn’t me, if I was better somehow: better looking, or we’d met differently –“

“If you weren’t yourself, I wouldn’t want you to. Whatever it is you were about to suggest.”

She looked out into the square, trying to hide her blushing.

“And if I were anyone other than me, I would let- _Percy Jackson_.”

_Wait. What?_

Her face had gone pale, and her eyes were wide. Maybe he’d misheard her. Maybe she knew someone else with the same name. Hamish couldn’t see her face, so he laughed, incredulous.

“I mean, I can’t blame you. We’d all let Percy Jacks _onofabich_.” His face fell.

Percy followed their line of sight across the square, and sure enough there he was, with Annabeth, ordering lunch at an open air Café.

In a single word, Velia summed up everything Percy was feeling, thinking, and didn’t understand.

“Fuck.”

The dream started to slip away from him, but the idea of waking up didn’t relax Percy, for once. She _knew_ him. And she seemed _afraid_ of him. Why didn’t he know her?

_There had to be more._

As he thought this, the dream stopped fading to black. No, instead it became something else entirely. He was relieved for a second, and a little amazed that he’d gotten the dream to bend to his will so easily. But the self-satisfaction didn’t last very long.

Tartarus itself was a nightmare, the mere thought of it was terrifying. It was something that came from inside of you. But like a nightmare, living it made the fear more real. He’d been free from it for long enough that he’d underestimated it.

He saw himself standing over Akahylis, manipulating her own poison to kill her, and relishing it. Usually, when this appeared in his nightmares, he saw it through his own eyes. He felt the power under his fingertips and watched Akahylis choke until even Annabeth was terrified by what he could do.

Somehow, watching himself from outside his body was worse. He saw his eye’s narrow, as he tested how far he could push his powers. He was smiling. He was defying nature, acting on his darkest impulses, even Annabeth who’d been at his side for all of his battles, was afraid of him and he was _smiling._

Normally this memory made him afraid of what he could do. This time it made him afraid what he could become.

It made him so afraid that he could barely form a coherent thought.

Usually when the dream’s changed it was a shift and it sort of melted into a new scene. This time the change as fast as blinking. It took him a moment to register that he wasn’t watching himself anymore.

In his place stood Velia, alone. The stylish outfit she’d worn in Rome was in shreds. In place of her prosthetic leg was bleached human bone, which moved like a normal limb despite not having any muscle or sinew. Being friends with Nico, Percy had seen his share of skeletons. This was creepy, even by that standard.

Whatever she was standing over was barely visible beyond flashes of fur and a barbed tail. It was being choked by darkness, as though limbs of pure shadow were wrapping and constricting around the monster. Whatever it was, it was writhing in pain, grotesque in the same way as Percy’s poison.

She flexed her hands and the bonds tightened. Her dark eyes glinted with something between brilliance and madness. The dreams always drew parallels between their lives, but this was the first time that Percy had considered himself and Velia to be made of the same stuff. She opened her mouth as if to speak.

That was when Percy heard the voice.

No, not heard. More like, he felt it. Sensed it. It was like a thought, except it wasn’t _his_. It said one word.

_Enough._

THE GIRL

She could hear Paul take lead August outside, but it sounded muffled. Like it was through water.

Other than August, all her friends were liars.

Paul and Tripta’s lies were innocuous really. They both had good fronts, and while it looked different from the outside, both had that same brand of bravado. And of course, they both lied for her.

Hamish could slip lies on and off like a jacket. Names, and backstories, and excuses. But he always knew, and always made it plain, where the lie ended and where he began.

She didn't think she could say the same about herself.

She’d been a liar for as long as she could remember. When she was younger, she thought it was safer to ignore the things she could do, and the things that she saw. So she had, until her whole life had become a lie of omission.

She felt more like herself here, with this name, than she ever had before. Velia was the first identity she’d had which was all of her own, and wasn’t that what she’d always yearned for? She didn’t feel like a liar when she answered to her name, talking or laughing and working. If the foundation was a lie, did that make everything built on top of it one too?

She was broken from her thoughts by Tripta pressing a glass of water to her hands and pushing her hair back from her face. How long had she been lost in her head for?

Tripta and Hamish were always there to hold her. They knew the things she didn’t tell. They’d been the ones to find her, all those years ago, and bring her here. Imagiane the camps surprise, when they'd gone to steal materials and come back with her instead. Eventually, they got her sat upright, her head resting against the back of the couch.

“I dreamed about him again. Both of us in that place.”

She couldn’t see his face. But she knew that Hamish was grimacing. Trip sat next to her and pulled her under her arm.

“There’s a poem", Hamish started, "That TS Elliot wrote-“

“Hamish, this better be fucking relevant.” Tripta cut him off.

“Shush. Let him talk.” If Hamish was reading, when they were all together in their down time, he would read aloud lines of his book that made him think or feel something, or if he thought it was pretty. He had a nice, deep voice and his accent had gotten stronger now he was living in Scotland again. It helped her to have the words to focus on.

“Aye, well this whole poem, the Wasteland, was about how western civilisation was crumbling, and modern life was empty- “

“What year was he writing this?” 

“1924. He hated gramophones.” 

“Then he would really hate the twenty first century. Imagiane how much he'd hate iPods…hang on didn’t TS Elliot write Cats?” 

“The Poems it was based on, aye.”

“Then he _definitely_ wouldn’t enjoy the twenty first century." 

Velia laughed at that. Ever since she'd met them, Hamish and Tripta had gone on their stupid tangents. It didn't matter what they were doing, or how much danger they were in. It had certainly made these two, intimidating looking individuals seem a lot more human, and easy to talk to when she was thirteen and her world was crumbling around her, and over the years it had become a comforting constant.

"Me and TS have that in common." She said, and her friends relaxed a little. If Velia could laugh and joke then she'd probably be okay for now, they probably thought. 

“Aye? Well, there’s this section where he talks about going to a fortune teller. He’s obviously never seen a tarot deck in his life because he bangs on about cards that don’t exist, but then he says that _I do not find The Hanged Man_. Critics talk about how it seems good on the surface, but it’s not. The loss has no meaning, or he can’t let go. Or if their is meaning, no one’s looking for it. So maybe…maybe, if he’s the hangman, Its a good thing. It means that all of this, that you've been through, might mean something.”

She nodded, thinking about it. It was a nice thought, even if it didn’t change anything. There was nothing she could do now but enjoy herself for as long as she could. Get some things ready. What point was there in dwelling?

There was a quote Hamish had read out on a whim, when he’d been reading Frankenstein for college, that had stuck with her.

_Beware, for I am fearless and therefore powerful._

What did she have to lose? Let them come and find her. Let _them_ be afraid this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the plot thickens!  
> Couple of brief notes. I know I go into a lot of backstory in this Chapter, and that's partly because my OC's are hella developed. But also because out of all the seven, every one of them has an angsty backstory, whether its dead parents, bad parents, or in Hazel's case both. Sally Jackson is a saint, but still Percy had Gabe to contend with. This stuff is imortant to write about, but I thought it was nice to include that sometimes there were good single parents, and blended famillies, and other relatives who stepped in.  
> Also I thought it would be nice to include reasons why people wouldn't maybe want to go to Camps half blood and jupiter. They both have their quirks, which wouldn't suit everyone. That's why we have Paul and Tripta- they both fit their parents expectations pretty well. Paul has aphrodites phenomenal capacity for love, and Tripta is a gifted blacksmith- and yet the camps still wouldn't suit them too well. Also they both curse a lot, for full authentic britishness.  
> As for the dreams: The Dialogue on Percy's end is lifted from The beginning of the Titans curse, and The Hermes' staff story from the Demigod files. Who remembers the demigod files? Shockingly, I did.  
> And Oof, Velia. Her narratives are a little rambly and odd, but thats the point of them.They're to be used as sparingly as possible. And Hamish is the outlet for my English student-ass self.  
> See what I mean about the plot kicking in about now? How do we feel about hamish? Any theories? Thoughts? Queries? It would be helpful, because I'm trying to get the level of foreshadowing about right here and again, comments and Kudos make for great motivation! And follow me on tumblr at 'the-last-girafficorn' (I've not changed these names since i was thirteen and I really need to get on that.)  
> Join us next week, when Percy takes control of his dreams, and we hear a prophesy! Thankyou for reading, and please give me feedback!


	6. The Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Tower- Trauma, Change, Revealation  
> Percy takes control of his dreams, and finds out more than he bargained for. Meanwhile, a prophesy is called. Its the beginning of the end for the girl

**THE TOWER**

_Trauma, Change, Revelation_

PERCY

Against all reason, Percy had woken up in a good mood.

Well, that wasn’t totally true. He’d woken up at two in the morning in a cold sweat and then he’d paced and tried not to hyperventilate for a while. How did she know him? And where had she been? It looked like Tartarus, but it couldn’t be. Could it? How would she have survived? And why was he seeing this now? All these dreams were either completely harmless, or showed threats that that they’d already dealt with, so why was he seeing them now?

That’s when he remembered. When he’d asked for the dream to show him more, it _had._ He might have some control here. Maybe he could work that to his advantage, so long as he could figure out what he wanted to see. But in order to work that out, first he'd have to dream again.

When he was finally calm enough to get back to sleep at 2AM he hadn’t dreamed at all. Instead he woke up six hours later, surprisingly well rested, and decided that if this was going to be his last day at camp before the world began to end again, or he saw something else that he couldn’t unsee, he was going to enjoy it.

So he did. It was a good day.

He’d spent the morning playing hooky with Annabeth, Grover, and Thalia. They set themselves up in the Poseidon cabin, built a blanket fort between the bunkbeds and ate through the Tupperware of cookies that he’d brought from home. They would have stayed there all day, but Thalia had to get back to her Huntresses before they started a fight and Grover had some satyr business to attend with. That left he and Annabeth to make out for a little bit before they headed to climb the Lava wall and spar for a while.

Pair that with a campfire, and some excellent strategizing for the traditional Huntress’ vs Campers game of capture the flag, and Percy felt good enough that even Grover seemed to have stopped worrying about him.

He still felt a little bad for not telling his friends about the dreams, but he’d rationalised that it was only one more day. He would experiment with his dreams tonight and even spend the rest of the break trying to figure out what they meant. He just wanted to enjoy today.

And he really had. And then he had to fall asleep. 

\---

As soon as it began, this dream had felt different somehow. Agitated. It kept flickering back and forth between his memory and Velia’s. One second he would be lying in the strawberry fields with Grover while he played his reed pipes, the next he would be watching Velia and her friend Tripta lying on some grass, singing together.

The dream refused to settle on either memory. The music overlapped, as though he was hearing both songs at once. When a pitchy note from Grover’s pipes cut through the girl’s soft harmonies, Percy decided that there was no time like the present. He placed all his focus, all his will power into a single thought.

_Who are you people?_

Everything cut to black. Then it faded into something else entirely.

He was in the woods at Camp Half Blood watching two girls, who looked vaguely familiar. They were maybe thirteen, and carried bags with them.

“Do you think it’ll be better there?” One of them asked.

Her friend just shrugged, a bitter twist to her mouth. “It can’t be worse. He said that his contact would meet us at Zeus’s fist.”

Okay, so this wasn’t a recent memory. At some point during the fight against Nero, or maybe just after it, Zeus’ Fist had been destroyed. Maybe it was by a monster, or maybe it had collapsed with the labyrinth now that it was losing its power. No one knew.

But if it wasn’t recent, and they were talking about leaving...oh gods. Percy was watching people get recruited to Kronos’ army. What did this have to do with Velia? Did she know him because she had fought against him?

Sure enough, as they approached Zeus’ fist someone was waiting for them. Ethan Namakura stood leaning back against the rocks.

It had taken a second for Percy to recognise him. Whenever Percy had seen him alive Ethan had been dressed in armour and scowling, and was either fighting for his life or trying to prove himyself. Here he looked almost casual. He wasn’t wearing his eye patch, but it just looked as though his eye just was resting shut unless you were focused on it. With a long, grey duster coat, and his shiny, shoulder-length hair, Ethan looked more like the character from an action flick than the servant of an evil Titan.

He looked up to the two girls. “Anushka and Megan?”

The bitter one nodded, ‘And you’re Ethan?’

He nodded. ”I am. You have everything you need? - Okay, good. Anything before we go?”

“Do you promise that your place is better?” The girl asked. She was more nervous than her friend, gripping her hand.

He scrunched up his nose as if he found the question distasteful, “That’s a stiff promise, Megan. I can promise that you won’t sleep on the floor of another god’s cabin. I promise that who your parent is won’t change how you’re treated. And safety, to an extent. But better? That’s relative. Depends on you.”

That seemed to satisfy her, and she started towards him, but the other girl, Anushka, didn’t budge. Percy let himself feel relieved for a second. Maybe they wouldn’t join him. Considering the extravagant promises that the Titans had tended to make, Ethan wasn’t such a great salesman.

“Then why should we follow you? Kronos is promising the world, and you’re offering us what, exactly?”

Wait, _what?_

Ethan didn’t get flustered at the challenge, he didn’t beg. 

“Because you’ve read the myths. Everything has a price. What would you have to give to get the world in return? And would it be worth it? We’re _promising_ you what you’re owed already. The gods are all the same, whether they’re major or minor, and so are the titans. They’re indifferent until we’re useful.” He pointed to his missing eye, “I learnt that the hard way. We can’t guarantee you utopia of whatever line of shit you’ve been sold by Kronos but we can give you a life. Your own life. “

_What?_

That couldn’t be right. Ethan was almost fanatically loyal to Kronos. He had been, up until the end- hadn’t he? So who was this cool, collected guy with this rational approach to morals and justice.

They stood there for a minute, in a silent standoff. Eventually Megan asked, “So we won’t have to fight out friends? Our siblings?”

Ethan softened then. “I can promise that, at least.”

The girls put their heads together, quietly corroborating for a minute.

“Lead the way.”

The image distorted, like paint running in the rain, and refocused to show the amphitheatre from his campfire dream in the daytime. The steps were packed with kids in green or grey t shirts, with the outline of trees on them. On the front row sat two women in thick, woven, green cloaks. The only other person wearing one was the blonde girl, who’d spoken at Jason’s funeral. Mary Cooper. She was stood in the centre of the circle. Her jaw was set, and even dressed in her flowy white blouse and turquoise jewellery, she looked fierce enough to take on an army.

‘-If they win, they won’t spare the gods children. Even if they fought for them, they have rebellion in their blood. But then if he wins, we’re all done for it so what does it matter.

But When they lose? Do you think they’ll feel like they can go to go to camp Half Blood? A place they’ve already ran away from once? The best case scenario is that they’re stuck in the same power structure that they’ve spent the last few years trying to dismantle. The worst case? They’ll be punished for their disobedience. So they’ll be left on the streets with no support network and no protection from a world at liberty to hurt them. They wanted their lives to be better, not to die for this cause. They aren’t evil, they’re hurt, angry kids. If we can’t get those half-bloods out, once the battle is done, they’re all as good as dead.”

A murmur went up in the crowd. One of the cloaked women held up a hand and it died down.

“And our contact is sure they would be compliant to such aid?”

Mary nodded. “He almost blew his cover to find it out, but yes, he’s sure. What’s the point of a spy if you don’t trust his reports?”

The woman furrowed her eyebrows. “It’s a risk, Witch Mother Cooper. And I’m not convinced that you’re looking at this entirely objectively.”

The sound of the crowd lulled.

“And why-” Mary’s voice was low. Dangerous. “-would you think something like that, Witch Mother Kestle?”

“No need to take it personally Cooper, but someone has to play devil’s advocate here. It’s a large risk to ask us to take. You yourself are a roman legacy with no love for her gods. You’re close friends with the spy in the Titan camp, and you were _involved_ with the Greek spy. That army knew what they were facing. They chose to trust a crooked Titan. They chose to defy their gods, rather than flee them. To collect them would be a risk. We would have to convince them to trust us, without giving us away. To house them, feed them and settle them here, when our books barely break even in a good year. You are asking a lot, and perhaps your…personal attachment’s are motivating you, more than you would care to admit”

Titan army? Greek Spies? Just how far had these guys been involved in his life, without him ever knowing?

The crowd were silent. Percy didn’t know these people, but he knew that the woman had crossed a line. He couldn’t help but to have some respect for Mary. Loyalty meant a lot to Percy, and if his own was called to question like this, he would have gone ballistic. But, like Ethan, Mary didn’t yell, or rant, or even get visibly angry. She spokewith an even tone and absolute conviction.

“I am not guided by my feelings. I’m guided by my morals. Morals instilled on me by these Witches. These Woods. Yes, I would like it if my friend could live. I would like it if my lover’s death weren’t in vein. But that isn’t why I think we should intervene.

‘I have no love for these gods. If I did, I would still be a child soldier in California. I blame them for Lee’s death and for my miserable childhood. No half-blood here would fight to defend those gods or encourage anyone to do likewise. I _know_ that the titans are worse. If anything, that I’m here and not fighting for them is a testament to my rationality.’

“But these are kids whose gods failed them to such an extent that they were willing to sell their souls for the _chance_ that things might get better. We were almost those kids. All of us. Either our gods have been forgotten, or they’ve forgotten us. We’re no better than they are.”

“So no, this isn’t about who they are. This is about who _we_ are. We are sanctuary. The Olympians failed them. Camp Half-Blood failed them. Are we going to fail them too? Abandon them because they have no immediate use? Because they’re inconvenient? Or are we better than that.”

The surrounding crowd erupted into shouting. The shouts all mixed in together, but the consensus seemed to be that yes, yes, they were better than that.

Kestle didn’t look mad. In fact, her gaze was tinged by something almost like respect. She and the third cloaked woman stood up and joined Mary in the middle of the circle. Once they were all stood together, the others seemed to settle down.

“All in Favour of this proposed logistical nightmare?”

Without speaking, almost every witch in the stands stood up.

‘Good.’

The image shifted _again_.

He found himself watching what looked like the aftermath of a battle. Kids were being unloaded from a bus, a lot of them wounded. The bus itself had claw marks, dents and even some fire damage on it. One of the kids helping with the effort, turning his head from his megaphone, muttered something about not getting their deposit back.

Whatever was going on, it was well organised. If they were well enough to stand and they’d been treated already, they were given bags of supplies and sorted into groups. Those who were hurt were carted off for treatment. He saw Augustus’ head weaving in and out of the coordinators with a clipboard.

That’s when Percy realised what had happened. This weird third camp, whatever and wherever it was, had decided to use their, apparently limited, resources to save the demigod's who’d joined the Titan army, after the battle of Manhattan. They’d assumed that the traitors had fled, as a best case scenario, since there hadn’t been enough bodies to make up the army.

Percy felt so many things at once, that it made him numb. So Ethan…oh gods. So, Ethan had meant what he’d said about hating the gods. It just so happened that he hated Kronos too. When Percy had asked who these people were he’d only meant it in terms of himself. Instead he’d revealed something much bigger, too. If they had a Greek spy, and Ethan, on their side it made sense that they’d mentioned Percy was a factor they might have to account for. 

His attention was grabbed by a pale head of hair pushing its way through the crowd. When she’d made her speech before the ‘Witches’, Mary Cooper had seemed ready for war. Now the battle was over, despite her cloak and leather armour, she looked lost. In her hands she clutched a grey coat. The one that Ethan had worn in earlier in his dream.

She let herself into a field hospital, inside a tent. There were wounded half-bloods in most of the beds, but the initial rush to get everyone treated seemed to be over. Most were sat quietly talking or trying to rest. Witches sat with some, sorting their welcome packs, explaining registration, and camp life. This seemed like a situation where an orientation video wouldn’t cut it

She made her way to the back corner of the tent. Hamish lay in the bed, with a bandage wrapped around his shoulder and what looked like a broken nose. On the floor next to him, Tripta and Paul slept slumped together. Only Velia was still awake, perched on a chair next to Hamish’s bed, holding his hand. 

Velia was one part of the mystery that he wasn’t any clearer on. When she saw Mary, she sat up a little.

“Mary. Hi.”

“Hello. How’s your man.” She jerked her head towards Hamish.

“He’s not my-“ Mary’s face twitched a second, and Velia realised that she was joking. She let out a weak chuckle. “Fine. It was a flesh wound. And his nose is broken.”

Mary let out a low whistle. ‘How many times is that now?’

‘Four.’

“Oof. Poor Hamish. You guys did a good job of organising everything on this end. Seriously, I don’t know how you co-ordinated the camp in so little time.”

“Thanks. August was probably the biggest help though. Plus Tripta running the maintenance team. Those two are organisational wizards.”

"So I've heard. I’d say it was a Roman thing but I know I couldn’t do it. Did Tripta make anyone cry in the process?’

She said it like a joke but Velia winced.

“Two campers and a guy who works for the timber supplier.”

“That checks out. Still, it got done. I think… I think that we got the best we could hope for. On both ends. The gods are still in power but at least they've gotta take some accountability now.” Mary’s grip tightened on the coat in her hands. “Do you think Ethan knows? Wherever he is. And Lee. They would have liked it, I think. I can’t believe they’ll both be buried _there_.’

Velia started, sympathetically, “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine-“

“Can’t you?”

Mary didn’t sound angry, or accusatory. Just tired. So did Velia when she answered.

“I suppose I can. But grief always feels unique, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Mary stared at a spot on the wall, “I guess it does.” The silence stretched out again untill Mary shattered it.

“What were you doing in the Labyrinth, Velia?”

Velia’s didn’t flinch. Her eyes didn’t flicker, and her hands didn’t move. There was no sign that it was a loaded question, other than the way it hung heavy in the air.

"I told you then. Hamish and I were robbing- "

“So it’s luck that Percy Jackson was there at the same time, killing the owner?” Her voice was soft but there was an edge to it. 

“What do you know?”

“I don’t _know_ anything. This isn’t a threat. I’m not accusing you of anything. I just…I want to trust you. There’s a council position opening, in the wellbeing team. I think you’d be good for it but, Vel, I need to know I can trust you. You don’t have to tell me everything. Just…Tell me something true.”

She hugged the coat close to her chest.

“I wasn’t interfering with that quest, if that’s what you’re getting at. I don’t care about prophesies.” Velia didn’t look up at Mary, who was now watching her with interest. “And I wasn’t lying. Remember we used those Hippalektryon Feathers? It’s not why we went, but once we were there, we thought we might as well take some things.” She took a deep breath. “I keep myself a secret, but I promise you that I don’t do anything that could hurt anyone other than myself.”

“So, what you doing at that Ranch...?”

“Was entirely necessary. And it broke my heart.”

Mary Placed a Hand on Velia’s. The two of them just sat there, not making eye contact, united in their individual, unspeakable griefs.

That’s when Percy felt the dream began to fade. He panicked

 _NO_ he thought _Why her? Why was she with me in Tartarus? How often was she with me before this? Let me know. Show me Tartarus, show me anything. Why her?_

He regretted asking, almost immediately.

He found himself watching himself and Annabeth, clinging onto the precipice of the pit, moments before they fell together.

"As long as we’re together."

He watched his hand release the ledge, and him and Annabeth fall down, their hands still intertwined, into the darkness.

But his dream-vision didn’t follow them into the pit. No, instead it rose to its edge. He saw the rest of the seven on the Argo II or just below it. Some were screaming, sobbing. Others just stood there, shellshocked. Percy didn’t pay them much mind. All he could focus on was Velia, standing on the very edge of the pit, facing Hamish. She held both his hands in hers.

“Promise me.”

“You can’t, I won’t let you- alone-“He blinked back tears, seeming to realise that it was pointless arguing. ”I promise.”

She raised their clasped hands to her lips.

"In another life." She said it like an old joke. It reminded Percy of the way that Annabeth called him impossible. Velia gave her best attempt at a smile.

"Another time." Hamish choked out in reply.

The girl took another step back, untill her heels peeked over the abyss. She raised her arms, on either side of her, like a gymnast landing after a flip, or as if she were only feeling the breeze. She took a deep breath in, her eyes trained to the sky, as if she was savouring the sight of it.

Then, eyes still open, she free fell backwards into the endless darkness.

Willingly.

Alone.

For a moment all he could see was that endless darkness, all-consuming and terrible. But then stars began to pierce that blackness. _Tell the sun and stars hello for me._ Percy remembered Bob asking him that, as though it was yesterday. Trees began to grow around him, snow falling to fill in the gaps.

He found himself sitting cross-legged, facing Velia. They were both were in their Pyjama’s. Her eyes were closed.

On the grass in front of each of them laid a card, face down in the snow. When he reached to pick it up Velia, without opening her eyes, did the same, mirroring him. It was one of those tarot cards, that hokey fortune tellers in beach shacks use. Not that Percy had ever been to one. Once you’ve lived through a prophesy or six you know better than to seek out the future.

He turned up the card. The girl did the same.

The Hangman. It showed a guy strung up from a tree by one foot, his eyes wide open. Not a promising omen. Then he had an Idea. He held out his card, so the girl would have been able to see it, if she’d been looking. She copied. Her card showed a girl tied up and blindfolded, surrounded by swords driven into the ground. He had no clue what these cards meant, but he didn’t suppose it was anything good. 

Suddenly, she pulled her arm back towards her, He did the same even though he didn’t want to. Her eyes snapped open. But they weren’t her eyes. Instead the glowing, green eyes of the Oracle of Delphi stared back at him.

When she spoke, he spoke with her. It was as if they were sharing one mind. Maybe they did. One mind, one dream.

_Lead by deserters and memories go,_

_To unite the dreamers, find what you would know_

_On Solstice return, with the loved one thought lost,_

_To be face trial for a life made of lies and it's cost._

She blinked, and for a moment her eyes were her own again: dark, wide, and terrified. Familiar, even if he had no idea how. Sat on his level, in her pyjamas and her thick fluffy socks, she didn’t look dangerous, but Percy had seen what she was capable of.

He woke up.

\---

He rolled out of his bunk, hearing a commotion outside. He had a sinking feeling he knew the cause of it. Yanking on a Tee-shirt he got to the door just in time to hear Reyna and Thalia talking right outside his cabin.

_“Is, is she going to be okay?”_

_“Yeah, yeah fine, she always gets weak afterwards. But she’s asking for Percy so- “_

“He’s here. I’m here. What’s going on?”

He pushed the door open, shrugging on his coat.

“Percy! Rachel sent us to come and get you. There’s been a-“

‘A prophesy. I know.’

_The Girl_

She woke up slowly. Relishing the warmth of the bed. The Solstice. When the dreams had started, she had known that she was running out of time, but she’d thought, _hoped_ , it would be longer. And she’d hoped whatever end she met would be private. A trial on the winter solstice was anything but that. Oh well. When had anything in her life turned out how she’d hoped? 

Slowly, she sat up and reached out for her Tarot deck. For weeks now she’d been getting the same cards again and again. The hangman and the eight of swords; what a sorry pair they made.

She shuffled the cards almost lazily, plucking out three when the impulse took her. She felt calm, deeply so. It was rare that she felt as calm as she looked. She knew that she should be afraid or panicked- after all she’d just dreamed up her own death sentence. Instead she felt numb. She didn’t have long now.

She turned up the first card.

The Nine of Wands meant a final stand. Fatigue. But it didn’t mean surrender. That was something. Maybe she could keep some last shred of dignity through this.

The next was Judgement. Typically, she would say it was internal, like a self-evaluation or awakening. But the prophesy had promised her a trial. The other day she had assured Augustus that the cards weren’t to be read literally. This might be the exception that proved the rule.

She paused over the third card. Did she want to know? Her mind drifted to Oedipus, and a prophesy that came true because someone thought that they could fight it. But then she remembered Bianca Di Angelo, who’d had every warning and still got lost in the land without rain. What difference would her intuition make now?

The Tower. Upheaval. Change in its most dramatic sense. Anushka, (now twenty, tall, cold, and glamourous), had told her once that the tower represented ambitions built on a faulty foundation. It was inevitable that everything would crash down.

She leaned her head back until it touched the cold window. If these were to be the last days of Velia Parker, then she wanted to live before she died. She’d been happy here. She wouldn’t let that be ruined by a ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now the plot is getting somewhere! Ta dah! Because Rick never explained what happened to Kronos army, I never thought it was realistic that he'd let the half blood's inherrit the earth, and because why the hell not! Also Velia 'The Girl' Parker is intentionally vaugue as hell, which is fun to write. Hopefully theres a contrast between how percy sees her, how augustus sees her, and how she sees her self. Should I add the prophesy to the blurb? Idk, I enjoy writing this but its got quite a small readership so if anyone has any suggestions for a better description then please let me know. Questions? Hit me up on tumblr as the-last-girafficorn.  
> Did you like it? LEAVE KUDOS or comment! Did you not? Tell me why, I'm writing this because I want to get better, so constructive criticism is very helpful.  
> Next week is another Percy-based chapter, in which he comes clean, more is revealed about Lee Fletcher's double life, a quest is called, and we get a little bit of Percabeth softness, as a treat.  
> Thankyou for reading, and remember, Feedback is a great motivator


	7. The Wheel of Fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wheel of Fortune- Fate, Decision, The unexpected
> 
> The Oracle of Delphie has spoken. Percy has to explain his dreams and a quest is called.

**WHEEL OF FORTUNE**

_Fate, Decisions, The Unexpected_

PERCY

_He rolled out of his bunk, hearing a commotion outside. He had a sinking feeling he knew the cause of it. Yanking on a Tee-shirt he got to the door just in time to hear Reyna and Thalia talking._

_‘Is, is she going to be okay?’_

_‘Yeah, yeah fine, she always gets weak afterwards. But she’s asking for Percy so- ‘_

_‘He’s here. I’m here. What’s going on?’_

_He pushed the door open, shrugging on his coat._

_‘Percy! Rachel sent us to come and get you there’s been a-‘_

_‘A prophecy. I know.’_

_\---_

“You _what,_ Jackson?”

Thalia demanded, but Percy wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy trying to get his shoes on.

“Percy, are you okay?”

Was he? Good question. One he couldn't answer. He deflected it with one of his own

“Who’s there now?”

“Who’s where?”

“Rachel’s cave. Who else is there?”

Thalia pushed her hair back from her face. “Uh, Chiron should be there by now. Me and Reyna carried her back. Annabeth and Grover came- oh, and Will Solace too, to check she was OK afterwards. Percy, what do you know?”

She sounded like she couldn’t decide whether to worry about him or strangle him. Percy didn’t blame her. He knew he was acting weird, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop freaking out for long enough to explain himself. The dreams before now had been a little uncanny, but they were harmless enough that he’d been able to ignore them. But this one? Even without the prophecy, he couldn’t have ignored this.

She’d fallen. Willingly. Why would she do that? Percy racked his brains for how he could know her, but came up blank. Maybe she was unclaimed and ran away? Or a probatio? That would explain why she didn’t have a tattoo. He could ask around, but first he’d have to explain the dreams he’d been having. 

As he walked to the cave the two huntresses filled him in on what he’d missed. Apparently Rachel had spilled out the prophecy from his dream over breakfast. They had some theories on what it could mean, but it was all too vague and no one could fill in the gaps. Well, he thought, he was about change that.

Inside the cave, everyone was gathered around that painting Rachel had shown him earlier in the week, of the blurry dancers.

“And this is all that your dreams have shown you?”

Rachel nodded. “No threats, no clues. Just a party.”

Will paused from packing up his first aid kit to come examine the picture, cocking his head to the side.

“Huh…It looks a little like-“ His voice was soft, unsure. He was talking more to himself than anyone.

Before he could finish his thought, Grover saw Percy at the opening of the cave and called out to him, snatching away everyone’s attention.

Chiron stepped forwards, brandishing a paper napkin with black biro scrawled onto it. The writing was smudged by a ring of condensation, which Percy assumed was from a can of diet coke. At one-point Mr D.’s constant indifference had made Percy mad. By now it was kind of reassuring. Dionysus only took an interest if things were bad enough to impact him. And that was _bad._

“Percy. I assume Thalia and Reyna filled you in on the walk over? Good. Now I’m not expecting you to embark on this quest, but if you and Annabeth could help us find- “

“Will, what were you about to say? What does it remind you of?” He barely registered that he was interrupting his mentor, Percy was too focused on Will.

“Huh? Oh, the painting. It’s dumb, sorry. It just made me think of an old photo that Lee, uh my brother, left behind.”

Chiron kept talking, but the words washed over Percy. His mind was moving too fast.

Lee fletcher had been the counsellor of the Apollo cabin when Percy had first arrived at Camp. His death in the Battle of the Labyrinth had been like a wakeup call. No one was safe. A couple of years older than himself, Lee had been like Beckendorf or (at least for a little while) Luke, in that he was a little older, and everyone liked him and looked to him as a leader. Percy had anyways. He and Beckendorf seemed to know exactly who they were, and what they wanted and had plans for a future beyond camp. They were like a best-case scenario for his own life. And now they were gone.

His mind to the dream he’d had last night. The blonde girl, Mary Cooper.

_‘you were involved with the Greek spy.’_

_‘if my lover’s death weren’t in vein.’_

_‘Do you think Ethan knows? Wherever he is. And Lee.’_

Lee.

When he’d been dreaming, he’d been too worried about who the witches were, and whose side they were on to consider that their source could be someone close to him.

“Will, do you still have that photo?”

He seemed a little freaked out by Percy’s intensity, but still he did his best to think. “Uh, yeah. We found some pictures under his pillow after he…you know. We’d already sent the rest of his stuff home, so we had them up for a while.”

Percy almost regretted how blunt he was being about this, but that feeling was outweighed by the hope that he had a starting point. 

"Are there others? Photos, I mean, That he left behind. That weren’t taken at camp."

Will’s eyes narrowed, but whether that was him lost in thought or wincing at a painful memory Percy couldn’t quite tell.

"A couple? They’re just of him and his girlfriend, I think, and some of his friends from home."

Percy closed his eyes. _My lovers death,_ she had said. 

"Could you go get them please? And bring them back here? I’m sorry to even ask, but I think they’re important somehow."

"Okay, It’s okay. We had them up on the pinboard for a while, but they got moved so it might take…okay. I’ll get them."

"Thanks. Really, Will, Thank you."

He watched Will hurry out the door to his cabin. It wasn’t much but it was something. A start at least. Something solid to jump off from.

His satisfaction lasted until he turned around. Six pairs of eyes were all trained on him with more or less the same expression in them. It was Thalia who put their feelings into words.

“Percy, what the fuck?”

\---

While Will went to find the pictures, Percy told the others everything he could remember from his dreams over the past week, starting from the beginning. 

_‘A week? And you didn’t thing to tell us?’ Annabeth had yelled at him. His heart had almost torn out of his chest, he’d felt so guilty._

He began with the funerals, with Augustus Birden and the other ex-romans coming to mourn Jason.

_‘Augustus Birden is what?’ Reyna’s eyes almost bugged out of her head. ‘Mary Cooper? How many? How did they get into my city?’_

He’d told them about his dream about sleepovers and cold feet. About how he’d hoped that it was something telling him that Augustus was okay. He and Percy had both found a happy ending.

_Annabeth, Thalia and Grover had softened a little at that._

And then the Campfires. He’d skimmed over his conversation with Luke, instead focussing on Augustus and wherever he was. How they’d felt safe Enough to sing in defiance of the Gods and how Augustus had been grieving Jason, long before he’d died.

He’d broken from the order of his story then, telling them what he'd seen them do in the Titan War, keeping kids away from Kronos army and then fighting to save them. He told them about Ethan Namakura, a double agent who’d paid the price for it. How Lee might be their spy.

_When he'd mentioned Ethan waiting Zeus' fist, Thalia had drawn back, glancing down at her hands. He pretended not to notice as Reyna reached out to comfort her, out of view underneath the table. He shrugged it off. Maybe it was something to do with a symbol of her father being used as a drop point for spies, or the fact that symbol was gone now. Whatever it was that she felt, it was quickly forgotten, replaced with shock as he continued with his story._

That led him to Velia. Sad, stylish and wise. How it wasn’t Augustus whose memories he was watching, but hers. He told them all how she’d recognised him in Italy, and had been afraid. How she was powerful. How she’d been at the Triple G Ranch, and the Labyrinth at the same time as they had.  
How she’d followed them when they fell.

At the beginning of his story he’d been interrupted constantly by the others. By the time he’d got to the end there was suffocating silence. It hung heavy over them for what felt like eons, until Annabeth broke it.

“How long has she been following us, do you think? This powerful Witch who hates us.”

Her voice was weirdly flat. Usually Annabeth’s voice gave her away- for all she considered herself so logical and calculated, Annabeth equally Led by her instincts and emotions. This was the girl who’d cried because she thought Cerberus was lonely and who'd fought the sphinx because her riddles were too easy. To hear her sound so resigned wasn’t good.

“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know if she actually follows us. What I saw made it seem like she just…runs into us. She was scared. Plus I don’t _think_ she hates us.”

Annabeth and Thalia both looked at him as if he’d grown a second head.

“You just told us that when she recognised us she cursed. And that she’d tried to lie about seeing you at that Ranch. Percy, for all we know she followed us to Tartarus to try and kill us, and failed.”

Percy almost agreed, until he remembered how she obviously cared about Augustus, and their friends. Then he thought about how she’d looked when she’d seen him at Rome. It hadn’t seemed spiteful or angry. Surely if she’d wanted to kill him, she would have done it then rather than after she’d jumped.

He told his friends as much.

“She’d mentioned that they’d had a tipoff that there was something going on in Italy. Unfortunately our quest was that something. And in the war, they didn’t help us, but they didn’t help Kronos either. Point is, maybe they don’t hate us. They just saw us and assumed that trouble would follow.”

Thalia nodded as if he were starting to make sense. “Fair enough. Percy tends to be involved in something that would get a normal person killed. So she what? Followed you to make sure you came out alive, and sent her boyfriend to check on the rest of the crew?”

It sounded a little crazy, but then so did everything else about this mess.

‘Okay.’ Reyna reached for the napkin with the prophesy written on it, and asked Rachel for a pen and paper. Going into her hyper-efficient ‘Praetor’ mode, she copied out the Prophesy in tidy block-print and scrawled notes next to every line as they discussed it. After forty minutes the sheet read something like:

LEAD BY RELICS OF TRAITORS AND MEMORIES GO, Traitors _= the titan army/ex-romans/spies in our camps? Memories= Percy's Dreams_

UNITING THE DREAMERS AND WHAT THEY WOULD KNOW. _Percy and Velia (Who is she?) Get Answers_

_WITH THE LOVED ONE THOUGHT LOST, BY THE SOLSTICE RETURN Loved one= Likely Augustus or Mary,_

AT THE TRIAL FOR LIFE AND ITS LIE, CONSEQUENCE LEARN. _Trial on what grounds: Desertion? More recent crime?_

That last line worried everyone. The god's met on a solstice, and trials weren’t unheard of then. But for what? It was so vague, maybe Apollo had lost his touch

Annabeth let out a long sigh and laid her head on the table. “This is a mess.”

“Oh, it is.” Rachel laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “But at least it’s a mess with a clear starting point and end goal. You’ve gone further on less, Chase.”

Percy wondered if she was referring to when Hera had taken him and Annabeth was left to deal with the fallout. She didn’t deserve to be given any more challenges, or puzzles especially not on his behalf..

“Relics of traitors,” Grover muttered the phrase like he was testing out how it hung in the air. “So that’s why you wanted to see Lee’s photos. I never pegged him for a spy.”

He got up to have a closer look at the painting, and Percy followed him. It was then, almost as if on cue, that Will came back into the cave. His face was kind of red and he was panting, like he’d ran back.

“Got them. Sorry it took so long, but they’d wound up in Melanie’s flute case, gods know…how. Oh.”

His eyes drifted back and forth between the picture on the top of his pile, and Rachel’s painting. Eventually he passed it to Percy. “It reminded me of it, but I didn’t think it would be _so…”_

He trailed away, not needing to finish. The girls had gotten up from the table, as well and were standing round Percy to see the picture.

“There’s no doubt there then.” Grover muttered.

The picture had all the same colours and shapes as the painting, but while Rachel’s sweeping strokes had made it feel like an image in perpetual motion, the photo had brought the scene to a halt and filled in the details.

The two dancers closest to the camera were Mary Cooper, her pale blonde hair and embroidered skirt flying out behind her, and Lee Fletcher. When Percy had seen dancers in his sleep, he’d noticed one boy’s long green coat. He regretted not paying more attention to who wore it. Lee had hidden in plain sight.

“It’s him.”

Percy looked over the other figures in the picture. In the other corner were Tripta and Paul in the same clothes that had stood out to him so clearly in his dream. He pointed them out to the others. No one recognised them. Percy had been about to hand the photo back to Will when something in the background caught his attention.

A figure with red hair, sort of bent over, and a girl with her back to the camera holding his arms. They were out of the camera’s focus, but he could make out short dark hair, and a long green skirt.

“That’s Velia.” He was sure of it. He had his confirmation, now he just needed to figure out what to do with it. “Will, could we see the other ones please?”

There were two other pictures.

One was a little polaroid snap of Lee and Mary, holding up their joined hands and smiling. It was sweet, Lee was leaning over Mary’s shoulder as if he were whispering in her ear, but that just made it all the sadder.

It was he last photograph that confirmed everything.

It was a happy picture. If you’d shown it to anyone else and told them that it proved a conspiracy to defy ancient gods and save an army of traitors, they would have laughed. Mary sat in the middle, grinning. She was bookended by Lee and Ethan, each with strands of her long hair draped over their faces like moustaches. They couldn’t have been much older than fifteen, and they seemed so happy, and silly and full of _life_ , that he had to remind himself that only Mary had lived past eighteen. Whatever they’d done with their lives, the two boys had died doing the right thing.

“Okay. We know the who. We roughly know what. Now we just need to know where.” Percy looked up at Chiron. ‘You said you sent his stuff home. Do you have the Address? ‘

He blinked a couple of times, as if he were surprised to be asked. Maybe he was. Percy had sort of forgotten that he was there, which was wild when he thought about it. When he had first arrived, he’d looked to Chiron for guidance and stability. When they'd needed advice for quests and Hero stuff, he was the first person that they all went to. With two thousand years of experience under his belt, there was no one better.

That's why when Chiron had been silent this whole time, Percy had assumed he was _letting_ them figure it out for themselves. He had always placed an emphasis on finding your own destiny. This time, though? His not making any suggestions, might be because he didn't have any. He seemed worried, very worried judging by the swishing of his tail. But also... _proud._ He couldn’t help them now, but that was okay. They were strong enough that they didn’t need him to.

Chiron nodded, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.   
Will had been given a brief rundown by Grover, while the rest of them had gone through the pictures, and since then he’d stood, just staring at Rachel's painting. He didn’t look away from it, even as he began to tell them:

“We do. Or, we have _an_ address at least,” Will began, “A satyr got sent to take his belongings to his home address along with the news. I insisted on going with him, since I was with Lee, at the end. I’d thought his family might want to know how much we all loved him, and that he wasn’t alone when…you know. He was a good brother, whatever else he was.

There wasn’t a phone number or anything like that, so we just had to show up at the door. This old lady answered so I assumed she was Lee’s Grandma? So I said I was his brother before I said anything else but she didn’t let me finish. She was really chatty, but she was sweet, and I felt so bad about what I was going to tell her that I wasn’t paying much attention to what she was saying to start with."

“But then she started talking to me about getting a bed made up, and we could leave tomorrow? I’d thought it was a little odd. Like, why would Lee send me to spend the night with his granny? We were in the living room by the time we got a chance to tell her that he was gone.

When I told her she was really nice for a little while, but suddenly she got this face like it was all hitting her at once. She looked at us, and said something like, _‘and you want to go back to that place_? When I said I was going back to camp, she couldn’t get rid of me fast enough. She said she’d get his things along to the right people, which again I thought was a weird if she was his. guardian. Who else would want them?”

Will sighed, rubbing his temples. “She probably wasn’t his grandma, was she? I’d thought it was weird but I was thirteen and grieving and really confused. Now it sounds like she was the gateway to this third camp.” He shrugged. “He was a little Jaded, Lee, but he was always adamant about how wrong Kronos was. He wouldn’t be a part of something that tried to hurt us. Still. The address was in his records. I’d start there.”

Annabeth rose from her seat. “Okay. That just leaves one thing.” She moved to stand before Chiron. “We ask permission to go on this quest.”

Chiron blinked a few times, before a slow, indulgent smile spread across his face. “This quest has been determined by the Oracle. Intended for Percy, and whoever he may choose. I don’t think you need my permission, Annabeth. Not anymore.”

For a moment, Percy pictured Annabeth the way she'd been when Chiron had first met her. A scared little girl, left behind by everyone she’d ever let herself care about. He remembered her at age twelve, still convinced in the gods’ glory, and desperate for a chance to prove herself. To him that seemed like an age ago but to Chiron, who’d seen hundreds of hero’s come and go over the millennia, it was probably only grains in an hourglass.

Despite that, he knew that Annabeth was special to Chiron. He had a wall towards the back his office in the big house, where he kept pictures of the half-bloods who’d stood out to him over the years. Achilles and Patroclus, Shakespeare, Amelia Earhart. On the bottom corner was a snapshot of Annabeth and Percy, at her high school graduation. She meant a lot to Chiron.

“I don’t need it. But I’d like it, please.”

“Very well.” He sounded choked up. “I call a quest. To follow Percy's dreams, wherever they might lead you and return by the winter solstice with this loved one thought lost. Percy Jackson, do you accept?’

‘I accept.’

\---

By the time they’d left the Cabin, they’d missed lunch, but at the very least they’d come up with a plan of action.

The next day Percy and Annabeth would go to the address in New Jersey, where Lee’s not-grandma had lived. Hopefully, they could get a location out of her, either by appealing to their emotions or lying their asses off (knowing Percy’s luck, a little of both.) Meanwhile, the others would look around camp for other evidence of this other camp, and get as much information on Lee, Mary and Ethan as they could. By the day after, hopefully they’d be able to set off for this mystery location.

Was showing up on the doorstep of a potentially hostile third camp armed with nothing but a half baked story about dreams and prophecies a good idea? Probably not. Was it the only one that they had? Unfortunately, it was.

Rather than go straight to preparing for capture the flag, with the others, Annabeth caught Percy by the hand, and gave him a look that said ‘We have to talk’. He knew exactly what she was going to ask him as he was lead behind the Athena cabin and turned to face Annabeth, her arms folded.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Percy?” She paused like she was waiting for an answer but cut him off before he could think of one. Her voice got more and more heated as she spoke. “Grover told me, when I got here, that you’d seemed a little off and I told him that he was imagining things. That you seemed fine to me, because you _did_. So I had to sit through that, feeling like an idiot, and a shitty girlfriend because I didn’t notice, except that I absolutely shouldn’t be feeling that way because you were deliberately _hiding_ this from me and you- should- have- told- me-‘

Towards the end she’d punctuated every word with a sharp poke to his chest. And then, even though her anger had taken its time to build up, it was released in one long sigh, like letting the air out of a balloon. She sat, leaning against the cabin wall and Percy joined her on the ground.

“As long as we’re together, Percy. That’s what we said. I don’t know why you would think that applied to you following me to Tartarus, but not to this, to _us_ , now. You’re the person who’s meant to trust me.”

This was the worst Percy had felt since he’d told his story. He’d never thought about how keeping this to himself would seem to Annabeth, beyond that she wouldn’t like it. He told her that.

‘And I do trust you. More than anyone.’

But she just sighed again. “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, Percy. Or bad about yourself. I just don't understand why you wouldn't just tell me? I mean, fair enough not the early ones. You didn’t know what was up with that. But when you found out that the girl recognised you, I was _right here._ We spent the whole day together, and you didn’t mention it. You should have told me yesterday. Why didn’t you?”

He tried to avoid eye contact, but she wouldn’t let him, guiding him back to face her with a light finger under his chin. A part of him was impressed by how calm both of them were being. Four years ago, him withholding something like this would have ended in either a screaming match or haughty silence. It struck him, like Chiron’s stepping back had, just how much they’d all grown.

“I don't know. I know that's not a good enough excuse but... Maybe because the last time we went on a quest in winter break, you were kidnapped, two people died, and we had to hold up the sky? Maybe because we had plans for the holidays, and I wanted to believe we’d still get to have them? Because you’d seemed so happy to see me, and to be here, that I didn’t want to be the reason that feeling went away. I didn’t want to be the one to ruin this. Besides, I didn’t know when things would actually…you know, _start,_ so I thought maybe it would take me so long to figure out what it all meant, that I might as well enjoy however much time I had. How was I supposed to know that Will had all the answers?”

Annabeth almost smiled at that. “You’re right. Maybe we should ask him to come with us on the quest. Be the third member?”

“I would, but he went out of his way to tell me not to bother, as we were leaving. He did ask to let us know if we found out anything important about Lee though.”

“Seaweed Brain.” She said it in that soft way that only Annabeth did: half exasperated, and half affectionate. She snuggled into his side. “We’ll work out who else is coming once we know where we’re going. After we trick a little old lady.” She paused for a minute.

“And Percy?” She was so close to him that he could feel her warm breath on his neck. How was he only noticing now, how cold he was? He was still wearing his pyjama bottoms.

“Yeah?”

“You know it’s never a burden, right? Not if it's for you.” She took his hand. “Even if you are impossible.”

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the plot is really getting going now!  
> Thankyou very much for reading this, any and all feedback is welcome, and if you drop a kudos or a comment (even if you're telling me why you didn't like it), It will really make my day.


	8. Seven of Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy and Annabeth Go to find the location of the woods, and to plan there next move. Meanwhile Augustus' talks more about what might have been. Relationships with the gods are complicated, at best.

**SEVEN OF SWORDS**

_Lies, Strategy, Resourcefulness_

PERCY

Despite the day that he’d had, Percy fell asleep easily that night. Capture the flag had really tired him out. Ultimately the Huntresses had kept their winning streak going, but Percy had only nearly died three times, making it a personal win. It had been really fun, which had only hammered in how much he didn’t want to leave. Not on another quest, anyways.

Maybe that happy-sad feeling had shaped his dream somehow.

He watched himself in his mom’s kitchen, with her and Jason. After Piper dumped him, Jason had spent the weekend at Camp Half Blood clearing his head before he started boarding school. Percy had really felt for the guy, so he’d invited him over for dinner before he set off back west.

Jason had gotten on well with his mom, who’d offered him a sympathetic ear, whilst shooting wary glances at his SPQR tattoo. That was fair- there was nothing like branding children to make your mom weary of a place. Percy had been given the grunt work of grating Cheese while Sally taught Jason how to make a lasagne. It had seemed like he was finally starting to perk up a little.

“-Cheese on top. I’ll write it down for you if you like?”

“That would be great Mrs Jackson, thank you. Is there anything else I can help with?”

He’d forgotten how polite Jason had been, and how eager he’d been to learn how to cook since he hadn't really had the chance before. The camps were fully catered, and everyone ate together, whereas on quests they ate whatever they could get their hands on.

“No, nothing for now, if Percy is done with the Cheese?” His mom said. He’d lifted the plate of cheese with a flourish, to show her that yes, he was.

“Lovely, thanks Percy, now it just has to go in to bake. Did you not have much chance to learn to cook at camp?”

Jason shook his head. “No ma’am. They do some life skills things, but not until we’re about to leave for college. And my guardian, who looked after me when I was little, he’s really nice but he still doesn’t really cook and, uh, oh! My friend Leo taught me to make some stuff, but that was mainly heating stuff up over a Bunsen burner, when he was hungry and didn’t want to stop working.”

His Mom laughed. “That sounds about right. I lived on off-brand Lucky Charms and Kraft Mac and Cheese until I found out I was going to have Percy. Most of my recipes I got out of library books while I was pregnant. Next time you’re on this coast, if you want to come over, you can help me make something else.’

All of Percy’s friends loved his mom, Thalia and Annabeth especially. He guessed it was because none of them really had a mom, or any good, consistent parent-figure growing up. Whatever the reason, he didn’t mind being left out of the conversation for a little while his mom fussed over them.

Jason grinned, and looked like he was about to agree but then seemed to stop himself.

“Thank you, Mrs Jackson, but I don’t want to be a burden. I mean, it was already really nice of you to invite me tonight, and I’m so grateful but don’t feel like you have to let me bother- “

He was cut off by Sally hugging him. He floundered for a second, before awkwardly returning it, shooting a panicked look over Sally’s shoulder. Percy just shrugged, mouthing _just go with it_.

Eventually his Mom pulled back, sniffling. “Sorry Sweetie. Pregnancy hormones.” She tried to play it off, but Percy could tell it went deeper than that. She kept her hands on Jason’s shoulders. “Now, let's get one thing straight. You aren’t a burden. You’re Percy’s friend, which means you’ll always have a place here. So, you let me know when you’re back in New York and I’ll show you how to make a meatloaf. Okay?”

Percy could have sworn that Jason’s eyes had gotten a little damp. He wondered how many times Jason had been told that he was wanted, not because of what he could do but because of who he was without trying.

“Okay.”

“Good. Now come on, we should be celebrating, not crying! This is the first time I’ve sent a boy off to boarding school willingly.”

In the dream he gave an indignant “Hey!” before laughing and moving to set the table.

As the dream started to run into Velia’s memory it struck him that there hadn’t been a next time. There couldn’t be. That would always be the only time that Jason had been to his home.

He saw Augustus, Paul and Velia, maybe thirteen years old, taking boxes out of a van and into a corner store. Both had _PARKERS’ est.1889_ written on them in in big, green letters. A man in torn jeans and a beaten up leather jacket, who must have been Paul’s dad, they looked so alike, was locking up the van.

After making sure that Velia, who was using a wheelchair, was steady with a pallet of coffee jars, Augustus awkwardly approached Paul's dad.

“Uh, Mr Parker? I just wanted to say thank you for letting me come with you today, I had a really nice time and hope I wasn’t any inconvenience-“

“Don’t be daft, lad.” He had the same thick, flat accent as Paul, and his voice was equally warm and easy going as his son's. “You’re welcome to come every week if you fancy it. We always go to the wholesalers while Velia’s at the physio, so I’m glad to have the extra set of hands.”

Augustus relaxed a little, when he was told that he wasn’t an inconvenience, but the tension didn't go away entirely. It was funny. Even though Augustus and Jason looked nothing alike, they had the same mannerisms. They both scrunched their eyebrows together and shifted onto their heels when they were nervous.

“Still, thank you for lunch, I’m sorry I couldn’t pay-“

Mr Parker cut him off with a hard sigh,

“Don’t you go thinking that a trip to McDonalds, in return for physical labour, is any hardship for me. You’re always welcome here. Honestly, you’re as bad as Velia when she first got here. You need to remember that you're kids. It's okay to let us grown ups do things for you every once in awhile.”

Velia rolled her eyes at that, but she smiled and nodded, before retreating into the store.

“Thank you, Mr Parker. But please let me know if I ever get in the way of family time or anything like that.”

That made him laugh, and he gestured for Augustus to take the other end of a giant sack of Pasta.

“Again, stop stressing. If Velia’s coming, just assume you’re welcome too, alright? You’re his brother and I can barely remember how we’re related to her, so I reckon that makes you at least as much family as she is.”

They followed her into the store, where Paul was stacking shelves. They both smiled and scoffed at the comment but seemed to agree. Augustus, on the other hand, almost dropped his end of the bag in surprise.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you knew that me and Paul were, uh, we have the same Mother. I understand if that makes things uncomfortable. I mean, not that it does, I’m not assuming that you-"

August, it seemed, also had Jason’s habit of trying to overexplain himself, and digging a deeper hole when he was worried, he’d offended someone.

“Honestly, kid,” Mr Parker set his end of the bag down, “If you don’t want to do things with us, then that’s more than alright. I won’t take offence.” That clearly wasn’t what Augustus meant, but before he could protest Mr Parker kept going. “But don’t be on your own because you’re worried that you’re in the way, because you aren’t. And especially don’t worry about my feelings, with you and Paul sharing a Mam. It was purely physical between me and her anyways.”

When he said that, Paul made a dramatic groaning sound, and dropped to the floor with his hands over his ears. Velia laughed, leaning over in her chair to give him a gentle poke. She’d been so creepy in his dream last night that it was jarring to see her so young and unassuming.

The man Laughed, disbelieving. “Why does me talking about the Photocopier-“ If that was a nickname for Aphrodite, Percy couldn’t decide whether it was hilarious or dangerously irreverent. Or both. “-Freak you out more than anything else I did in the 90’s? “

Paul shrugged. “Because I’m not the evidence for any of that stuff.”

“No, that was all on VHS.” All three of the kids looked unsure whether to laugh or be grossed out by that, clearly unsure if he was joking since he’d said it so casually. “I’m going to let the dog out. You kids okay to finish up?”

They all nodded, and Paul put some music on a cheap portable speaker.

“Bloody hell, son, Kate Bush was old and uncool when I was a kid!”

But Paul just shrugged and started to dance as he stacked the shelves. Before he got to the door, Mr Parker turned to watch them for a minute, bopping as they got to work.

The last thing he heard, before the dream faded into nothing, was Mr Parker murmuring to himself.

“You’re Good kids.”

\---

When Percy woke up, and with Annabeth drove the camp van for an hour and a half to New Jersey, he’d thought hard about how important it was to have someone to love you and support you. He decided that it meant he owed his mom, at minimum, and explanation. A warning.

‘Hey Wisegirl?’

Annabeth looked up from gazing out the window. He’d already told her about his most recent dream. “Yeah?”

“If this checks out, and we end up going on this quest, I need to stop off at my mom’s first, to tell her where we’re going. After last time she deserves an explanation, in person.”

\---

Eventually they pulled up outside the address from Lee’s records. It was little apartment on a backstreet, above an empty retail unit. The window boxes were overflowing with flowers, which struck him as odd since it was winter, and it was thick with climbing plants, and the path was lined by painted stones.

They walked hand in hand to the door and knocked. After a minute or so of waiting, a woman aged about seventy opened the door. Her waist-length hair had half turned grey, her big grey eyes were magnified by a pair of thick tortoiseshell glasses. She was dressed in a long-patterned skirt and thick woollen cardigan.

“Hello?” 

Percy took a deep breath, before going into the spiel that he and Annabeth had planned during the drive.

“Hi. We were friends with Lee fletcher, at Camp Half Blood. He told us that you could help us out.”

It was deliberately vague buut not technically a lie. The woman’s eyes widened for a second, before a slow smile bloomed on her face. “Well then, I think you’d better come inside.”

She ushered them inside, chattering all the while. He could understand now, why Will had struggled to find a window to tell her that Lee had passed. “Lee was a lovely boy; it was terrible what happened and I’d be happy to help a friend of his. Now I’m on my own this weekend, my wife’s in California, so you’ll have to hang in until she’s back. She’s the proper Witch. Unless the stars are in line I can barely shift a kitten. Gods, I remember we moved a bus of kids once, every witch on this continent helped us and it still had me knackered.”

A bus. He remembered in his dream; the survivors from the titan army had been getting off a bus.

“So that’s your job here?” Annabeth asked, pausing the woman’s rambling for a second, “You get campers to this, your, other camp using-”

“Magic, yes sweetheart. I don’t know how much Lee had the chance to tell you, but that’s the short and long of it- shoes off loves, thank you.”

The walls of the hallway were lined with bright tapestries and every flat surface was cluttered with knick knacks.

“I’ve not had guests such as yourselves for a long time now, but I suppose that’s a good thing, isn’t it? Don’t just stand in the doorway, come in,“ She ushered them into a living room, covered in more tapestries. They reminded him of psychedelic album covers from the seventies, a mixture of detailed art and bright, clashing colours.

“Now, let me take those coats. Sit yourselves down, and we can get to introductions. You two can call me Emma. I went to camp half blood, you know. It was a long time ago now, but still I know how difficult it can…”

She was in the hall hanging up the coats, when her voice trailed off.

“Is everything okay, ma’am?” Annabeth called, shooting Percy a worried look.

Emma shuffled back into the living room, holding Percy’s coat by its collar. Oops. Since he could walk Percy’s mom had sewn name labels into everything that he might lose. Through boarding schools, camp, and college, he’d kept it up, especially with more expensive things, that he might take off and leave behind. Like his winter coat.

“You’re him.”

He started to map out escape routes in his head. Emma looked harmless enough, but she’d just admitted to being a witch, albeit not a good one. This could get dicey. 

“Look Ma’am I don’t know what you’ve heard but-“

Before he could figure out how to justify himself, Emma was shushing him and taking his hands.

“Thankyou.”

‘I- huh?’

Percy was expecting accusations, or an attack. Not an old lady thanking him with misty eyes.

“You’re the one who made the gods claim their children, aren’t you? Who stood up for the undetermined and the minor gods? I spent four years at Camp Half Blood, three years in the Hermes cabin. I was an angry kid and my father didn’t really want me, but Camp Half Blood really helped me. They taught me how to channel my anger into my art.”

She pointed to the tapestry above the fireplace. It was the Big House, contrasted in front of swirling paisley sky the colours of sunset.

“There, it didn’t matter if my parents didn’t want me, or my mom. For the first time in my life I was understood and encouraged. It was such a step up for me that I didn’t care about being unclaimed. I wasn't alone anymore. I loved it.’

‘But that was just me. A lot of the unclaimed and the children of minor gods, well, let’s just say that those kids who joined Kronos weren’t the first to be angry or unhappy. They just had the chance to act on it. But _you.”_ She placed a world of weight onto the word.

“You put us back on an equal footing. You know we never put a new Eye in Camp Half Blood, after Lee and the Titan War. Not just because we didn’t want to risk another kid’s life, but because the biggest reasons why we ran away were gone. Camp was finally allowed to be equally good for everyone. All those kids, now on equal footing... You did good, kid. Really good.”

Percy didn’t quite know how to respond to that. When Percy heard the words ‘You’re him,’ it was usually followed by an accusation. The son of Poseidon, the child of prophesy, the graecus praetor, the titan killer. It was usually a threat. But a good kid? He liked that legacy way more.

“The weaving is beautiful…” Annabeth murmured, looking at Emma with something like awe. “You’re a child of Athena?”

“I am. Why do you ask? Am I talking to a little sister? What’s your name love, I feel rude for not asking before.”

Annabeth told her the truth and was immediately wrapped in a tight hug. Annabeth readily returned the hug, which seemed a little out of character. She usually avoided physical contact unless she knew a person very well. But then again, other than Daedalus, Annabeth had never met a sibling who’d survived into adulthood. Here stood a woman who’d gotten to live a full, presumably happy life outside of Camp. It was sort of amazing.

“Of course. You’ve got the owl eyes, as we used to call them. Were you there for long? You’re easily old enough to have been a counsellor.”

The woman’s eyes grew wide when Annabeth said yeah, she _had_ been councillor, before she broke into a massive grin.

‘You were? Oh well done! I carved my initials into the councillor’s bunk before I left, but they’ve probably replaced them by now.”

Annabeth looked thoughtful for a second, then shook her head. “They must have done. Someone carved Ass into the headboard, though.”

Emma brought a hand to her face, a little embarrassed. “Sorry, but that’s me. Anathema Susan Smart. The name alone should be proof that my father hated me.”

Annabeth chuckled at that, but then she got a thoughtful look on her face. “But then why did you leave? You loved camp and you got claimed. I thought you’d be against camp, if you were helping kids to leave it.”

Emma gave her a long, sad look before asking, “Have you ever met our mother, Annabeth?”

Annabeth winced, no doubt remembering the Mark of Athena, and Minerva demanding that Annabeth enact her vengeance. “I have.”

“She claimed me after I’d gotten so good at weaving, Chiron said he hadn’t seen my equal in centuries. I suppose she wanted credit. When she did, I thought she’d come to curse me like Arachne. I mean, I liked art but I wasn’t much of a warrior or strategist, so I always assumed I belonged to a muse, or some minor craft god. Anyway, when she claimed me, she commissioned a tapestry in her honour. Until then my Art had depicted the stuff around me, so it was a lot of myths and gods and heroes. For this though? I decided that I would do something extraordinary. One second.”

She left the two of them alone on the couch for a little while. Quietly he asked Annabeth if she was okay. She nodded back, looking a little dazed. For a long time Annabeth had been her mother's favourite. She’d gotten praise, yes, but a lot of strife too. In that sense, maybe Annabeth and Anathema were alike.

When Emma came back she was clutching a rolled-up tapestry.

“I don’t keep it out, but I could never bring myself to throw it away. Its too good.”

Percy let out a low whistle when she unfurled it, and Annabeth an appreciative _oh._

Percy didn’t know much about art, but even he could tell that Emma was seriously talented. The tapestry showed Athena springing from Metis’ head, but it wasn’t like any classical depiction he’d seen. Instead Athena was a silhouette, spilling out of his mother’s head on a sea of words in a mix of ancient Greek and English, all in brilliant colours and overlapping one another. It wasn’t something he’d hang in his bedroom, but he could appreciate the skill and the vision behind it. Annabeth clearly agreed, as she traced the words with her fingers.

“The words are all straight from Hesiod. The original and the translation. It took three months and it’s the first thing I did in my style. I was so passionate, so inspired, that I thought Athena was blessing me or guiding me.”

Annabeth looked up at Emma, “But you didn’t give it to her?”

“I did.” Her voice became flat. Bitter. “I was told to put it in the fire like a burnt offering, when I was finished. When the time came, it wouldn’t burn. It was like a public display of rejection.”

“I didn’t understand why not, so I prayed. And for the first and only time in my life, she answered. And she told me that I’d ‘ _bastardised her medium’_. I was to do it again, this time in a style _befitting of her dignity_. The passion, the love that I poured into this didn’t matter to her. That’s when I started to believe what the unhappy unclaimed had been telling me for years. The gods couldn’t love us unselfishly. Athena only wanted me as a reflection of herself. When I didn’t reflect her the way she wanted to be seen, well then what was the point of me?”

“I didn’t do it again. I didn’t go back to my old, traditional style. I never heard from her again. I loved camp, but I’d been completely disillusioned regarding the gods and it cast a shadow over everything i did after that.”

“Then what? How did you get to where you are now?” Percy had started off with a clear plan and a clear mission, but that had kind of gone off the rails within ten minutes. But Emma’s story, her perspective, had him pretty interested.

“Well, not long after, a couple of children of Apollo were talking about going to an outdoor concert upstate in Bethel. It was 1969.”

Percy recognised that year. “Woodstock?”

“Woodstock. They thought it might be fun, so they invited me and some of my unclaimed friends to come with them in their truck. On the drive up we ran into a drackon, and we ended up fighting it along some British kids in a van. We ended up sticking with them for the rest of the festival, and I got particularly friendly with a girl called Dawn. Towards the end, she told me about the place she was living and how I could be free from the gods, find my own path. I decided to go back with her. I finished school. I became an Art therapist. And forty years later, I was able to marry that girl who took me away. I got my happy ending.”

Emma smiled then and took both of Annabeth’s hands in hers. “So no, love. I don’t hate Camp. Not many witches do. But I didn’t like how the gods could dictate which of us mattered, and why. So thank you,” She glanced over to Percy, “Both of you. Now, hopefully, others won’t have to travel the distance I did, to feel like they mattered.”

She wrapped up the tapestry, and left the room to put it away again. 

“Crap.” Annabeth muttered to herself.

“What, what's wrong?”

“I really like her.”

He huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “Me too.” He really did. Not just because she’d been buttering his ego a little and because she’d fought a drackon at Woodstock, making her one of the coolest people Percy had ever met. She just seemed warm. Genuine.

“So, you think she’s telling the truth? That they’ve got nothing against the camp? I mean, they moved the army. I’m not saying that we should trust these Witches but… I don’t know. If she doesn’t hate us, and you don’t think Velia was trying to kill us then maybe we won’t get there and be murdered on sight.”

Hopefully, she was right. Now they just had to find out where it was. Before he could tell her that, Emma bustled back in with snacks.

“Here you go. Help yourselves. Now, you’ve had my tragic backstory, I think its time I heard yours. I mean, you’re both proper heroes, claimed, been on quests, you’re young and in love,” She gave him a knowing smile, but it wasn’t enough to ease the knot in Percy’s stomach. “So why would you of all people want to leave?”

Damn it. Their original plan had anticipated this question, but those lies didn’t work anymore. They’d have to think on their feet. While Percy was still grasping for something to say, Annabeth answered for him.

“Percy has survived two great prophesies. Two years ago we crossed the world, went through Tartarus, and united two camps. We even fought alongside our parents, and when we won it was at a huge cost. But I didn’t mind because I thought that would be the end of it. We’d saved the world.”

Annabeth was starting to talk faster, and louder. Percy had started out relieved by how smooth the lie was. But then he saw the the set of her mouth and the glint in her eyes. It wasn’t a lie. He squeezed her hand, a silent show of support, as she kept going.

“But then the oracles broke, and Apollo was made mortal. Half-bloods were expected to help him and even _die_ for him. There was an evil to be defeated and someone had to act, I know that. But it was left as penance for a _mortal_ Apollo, as if teaching a god a lesson was more important than any of our mortal lives. We’re at college now, and I don’t want to leave my home because I love it. But Emma, I’m so _tired_. I want to know where I can go if they try to come to me again. If I want to make this s _top,_ and I need to go somewhere that _they_.”

The two women shared a long look, with intense, steely eyes, until Emma decided something.

“I can help you with that.”

\---

When they left the apartment, maybe forty minutes later it was with a post-it with an address scribbled onto it. Woodbridge, Northumbria, UK. And a vague sketch of the county with a dot on it. Apparently, the address wasn’t online anywhere.

As they sat in the car, Annabeth and slumped forwards, to rest her head on the dashboard. He laid a careful hand on her shoulder.

“You okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“You meant what you said to her, right?” His kept his voice soft. When she lifted her head, her cheeks were wet.

“I meant it in the moment. I don’t want to leave, Percy, I want to finish college. I want to live in New York. I want to live with you. I want to build a skyscraper, that they can see from Olympus, to remind them that I am something, without them.” She leaned against him, around the gearshift. “Mostly, I want a life. One with you, Seaweed brain, if that’s okay.”

“It’s more than okay.” He rubbed her shoulder, “Who wouldn’t want to be a hot architect’s trophy husband?”

She laughed at that, hiccupping a little. He lost track of how long they sat like that before Percy started the car. As he drove, he tried to focus on what he was going to tell his Mom. Whatever it was he would have to do it tonight, before thinking about how her face would crumble made him he lose his nerve. Emma had given them the information that they needed but she’d also made him doubt himself a little.

“Percy? How are you feeling about all this?”

He drummed on the wheel with his fingertips. They’d ran into traffic on the other side of the Holland tunnel, and he was getting antsy.

“It’s uh… It’s what you said in there, about us not being able to stop? We need to go on this quest, because trying to avoid prophesies always goes badly, and besides, I need to know how she knows us.”

“Velia?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. But?”

“But what if she stuck her neck out for us, for some reason, and now she’s trying to live a normal life. Are we going to show up and take that away from her? Dragging her friend off to trial?”

Annabeth nodded, like that made sense. “Honestly, I'd almost forgotten about Augustus. Okay, if we're assuming he's the _Loved one lost_ or whatever it was, if he’s being put on trial, doesn’t that mean that he did something wrong?"

“Maybe? But these are the gods. They don’t have a track record for being rational judges.” He thought of all times the gods had debated killing him for the things he might do. “But we don't know how he ended up with those guys, or if he wanted to go. What if he just ran away, or broke a vow? The prophesy is so vague about why. I’m scared we’re being sent to lead someone to the gallows.”

The cars were moving again now. Neither of them looked at each other.

“No.” Annabeth’s voice was firm. Certain. “No. If she’s not done anything wrong, then we help her however we can. But to figure any of this out we have to find her. Besides, prophecies never work out the way we think – you wouldn’t be here if they did.”

Percy hummed, noncommittally.

They didn’t speak again until they were at his mom’s door. When Sally answered with a beaming smile, Estelle balanced on her hip.

“Percy! Annabeth! This is such a lovely surprise, come on in, I’ve got chilli on the stove, and some- “

She stopped short and he felt her hand wiping a tear off his chin. Funny. Percy hadn't realised that he was crying.

“No. Percy, not again.”

“Mom, I’m so sorry.”

AUGUSTUS

“Did I miss anything else while I was asleep?” Velia asked it casually, as if that sleep hadn't ended with her waking up into a panic attack.

Camp had reduced numbers as kids were starting to head home for the holidays, even if that was only as far as their parents’ homes in the town. Those of them left were getting ready for Yule.

All the Germanic myths bled into each other, and the witches just embraced that. Like, the Wild Hunt, a pack of spectral huntsmen crossing the sky, was a common legend across northern Europe. But dozens of stories all disagreed on who lead the hunt and why, ranging from Gods and Faeries to Ancient kings and souls pursued by the devil. So, every year the witches held a procession lead by figures from every story they knew. Last year Mary Cooper had dressed as Berchta, an old German goddess who rewarded good workers and gutted people, in ethereal white robes. Meanwhile Paul, ever dignified, had been Jan Tregeagle, a lawyer who’d escaped Hell and was pursued by the devil's hounds, having gotten the children’s choir to follow him wearing dog ears.

Yule was August’s favourite festival. It reminded him of Saturnalia in New Rome. It was like a proto-Christmas, co-opted over the years by the Romans and the Church as they’d spread over Europe. It lasted twelve days, starting from the solstice. They burnt a yule log, ate a yule boar (or just a hog roast because wild boars were a nightmare to source and animal sacrifice is gross) and sang. A lot. They celebrated the New year when it came, and on the twelfth night they went Wassailing which was like carol singing if everyone was wasted and refused to leave until you gave them food.

Right now, most of those left were gathered in the mess-tent before dinner, making straw goats. (Julbocken, they called them. It was a Scandinavian thing.) Paul and Trip hadn’t shown up yet, so it was just him, Vel and Hamish. August’s goat looked like shit, so Hamish joked that the only things he couldn’t do were Caleigh dancing and goat weaving. That lead them to telling Velia about Paul's disastrous dancing lesson on Saturday and then Velia had asked them what else she’d missed, leading them to this conversation.

Hamish had filled her in on August and Paul being ‘very mushy in a bro kind of way’, and August told her about their ‘do you ever think about going to another camp conversation’.

When he said that Paul hated the sound Camp Half Blood, Velia had just hummed. He asked her what was with the reaction.

“Because I'm not sure that's what he meant, really. Paul has only ever heard about camp from people who’ve run away, because they hated it, right? They’re not exactly going to be objective critics, are they? No offence Megan.”

A girl wearing a thick yellow scarf, sat directly behind Velia, called back. “Non-taken.”

“But still, everything he said comes down to resenting his mom, and not wanting to leave his dad or his home _._ Not the camp. So yeah, he wouldn’t want about going to Camp Half Blood, but that doesn’t mean he hates _it_. He’s friendly, good with a sword, plus the camp probably has a good piano and less mud.”

August had to admit, she had a point, although the Roman in him didn’t want to praise the Greeks. Especially the mud thing. After heavy rain, camp in the Woods became a slip-and-slide of mud, and rain boots became almost a camp uniform. He only really minded when he needed the bathroom in the middle of the night, or when they were working around Velia’s mobility problems.

“Okay, I’ll cede you that. But you’ve got to admit, Tripta would hate Camp Jupiter.”

“Why?”

“Well,” He thought how best to express it, “She isn’t very Roman, is she?”

Velia and Hamish both laughed at him then.

“What’s so funny?” Augustus demanded.

“Tripta is _so_ Roman, that’s what! She’s efficient, authoritative, charismatic, and doesn’t suffer fools. She's just not a follower, by any stretch of the imagination. Still, with her showmanship, she’d make a very good Emperor.”

“Well,” On principal, August couldn’t just agree with her, thanks to his and Tripta's unspoken agreement. They could love each other, trust each other, and fight for each other: they just couldn't admit to it. So instead he said that, “Like many emperors, she’s rumoured to be nuts.”

She gave him a light swat on the shoulder, leading him to lose his grip and let his goat unravel. Hamish laughed, taking it off him, and finishing it up. His hands were as big as the rest of him, but he was dexterous, thanks to growing up handling stolen things, and forgeries.

“And what about you Hamish?” Velia said, resting her chin on her hands to look at Hamish on the other side of the table. “How would you fair in another camp.”

Hamish huffed, thoughtful as he twisted a piece of red string to finish August’s goat. “Well Uncle Jamie and my Mother both liked Camp Half Blood, so I’d probably get on well there, if they let in Legacies. I don’t know about Camp Jupiter. I’m okay following orders and when I was younger, I might have liked the structure and the camaraderie. I think about it sometimes, but I know I’d probably be different if I’d grown up with my Father, depending on who he was. But for me as I am? I wouldn’t want to give up my freedom- the things I've seen, the people I've met.”

“For what its worth,” Augustus gave Hamish a sympathetic look, understanding what it was like not to know your biological father. “I think you’d make a good Roman.”

“Thanks mate,” Hamish gave him a closed-lipped smile. “But theres not much point dwelling on what we aren’t and weren’t and could have been, is there?” He gave Velia a look that August couldn't quite catch the meaning of. “Not if we’re happy enough where we are.”

“Exactly. How about you Velia?”

“How about me, what?”

“If you couldn’t be here, what other place would you go?” August racked his brain. Velia had never met her Father, so he couldn't say for sure _what_ she was. “Assuming you aren’t a half-blood or Legacy, that rules out either Camp.”

Velia nodded, seeing where he was going with this. “As a sorceress looking to network, since Circe’s island is still closed for refurbishment, that leaves…”

“The Amazons or the Huntresses. Well we can rule out the Hunt.” August said it without really thinking. Hamish choked on his drink, and Velia gave him a look of disbelief.

“And why is that, August?”

Oh. OH. She thought that he meant she couldn’t be a huntress because she couldn’t not, or at least she had…oh no.

“I didn’t mean the maiden thing.” He blurted out, then immediately regretted it. He wasn’t sure which implication was worse. “You could do that, uh if you wanted to. Not that you’d find it easy, or that you wouldn’t and- “

He stopped talking when Velia clamped her hand over his mouth. “Please stop talking about my hypothetical sex life and get to your point.”

Both of them were fighting back smiles, but Hamish had flushed bright red and they weren't meeting each other’s eyes. If August had been less mortified, he might have read into that. Instead he shook off her hand and laid his face down on the table, only to crush the straw goat he’d forgotten was there. Crap.

“I meant because you like to dress nice and the hunt seem to have a uniform. Plus I wasn't sure how they could handle disability access. Not that you’re…promiscuous.”  
At the word promiscuous, Hamish and Velia crumbled and August had to laugh with them, as Velia pulled him off of the table.

“Oh August,” She sounded fond, but strangely relieved. “How does your head work.”

“Actually.” Hamish leaned in. “You know who would make a great Amazon?”

“Yes.” Velia said, clearly on Hamish’s wavelength. At the same time August asked “No, who?”

“She’s six feet tall, has a track record of making men cry and likes thigh high leather boots.”

“Yes! Tripta would make a great amazon.” Velia said, letting her arms slip off August. “And Paul could go with her!”

“Would he want to? With the collars a- No. Don’t answer that. There are things I don’t need to know about my brother. And that you _shouldn’t_ know about your cousin.”

“Speak of the devil.” Hamish sat up in his seat and he waved. “Paul, get over, we were just talking about how much you like Tripta’s tall boots.”

August turned, expecting Paul to make a sharp come back at that, but instead he looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“Paul? What’s wrong.”

“I uh,” Paul rubbed the back of his neck, the way he always did when he was upset. “Uh. Yeah.” He sat himself down on the bench next to Hamish, and reached for Augusts crushed goat, making a weak attempt to pull it back into shape.

“Paul.” Velia’s voice had shifted to quiet, firm and calm, like it always did when she was trying to get a handle on a situation. “What’s gone on?”

“I put my foot in it. Velia, I fucked up. And we fought. You were right, it happened. I should have talked about it with her. You were right.”

Velia closed her eyes and took a slow breath in and out.

“Okay. It’s okay. We can…we can _something_. Where’s Tripta?”

Paul shook his head. “I left her in the forge. I went to get her when…Oh god I’ve ruined everything”

Velia stood up. “I’ll go and check on Tripta.” Her voice was still completely level, but it had an edge to it. “You two-“she pointed between the two other guys. “- Sort him out.”

As she walked behind Paul, she softened a little, dropping a quick kiss onto the back of his head and muttering something about an ‘emotionally constipated moron…fix it while we can.”

That left the three guys around the table.

“I think,” Paul, spoke slowly and thoughtfully, even though his heavy, teary breathing as if Velia had transferred some of her constant composure into him. “I've fucked up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And It thickens! Emma's backstory took up a lot of the word count, but I thought she was helpful for setting the tone of the Woods, and lowering Percy and Co's defences a little. Also, no one in this fictional universe could possibly deserve sally jackson.  
> For all the Yule activities, you can look up Yule and the Wild hunt on Wikipedia, but since alot of celtic and pre-roman mythology is so patchy, I thought it was fun to show how it would all mesh together, and how they could try to interpret it. Is it relevent to the story? nope. Did I have fun thinking of it? yes.  
> Now theres going to be a bit of a tonal divide between Percy and his friends on an old-school quest, and Augustus who has no-idea what's coming, and is instead watching his friends live out a dopey rom-com plot. However it does let me drop in a whole ass bunch of foreshadowing, which will make sense once Percy and Velia meet, and we figure out what the hell is going on!  
> Join us next week when we learn the story of Mary Cooper, Percy sets off on his quest, and we learn what Paul did.  
> Thanks so much for reading this far! Please comment or kudos if you've made it this far, I can't overemphasise how helpful it is! Have a lovely week <3


	9. Two of Wands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TWO OF WANDS  
> Planning, First Steps, Leaving Comfort  
> I'm so sorry about the re-upload, it turns out I accidently uploaded the un-proofed version of the chapter, and thought this was better than exposing everyone to my horrendous spelling and grammer!  
> Here we learn the story of Mary cooper, and of What Paul did the night before, as Percy makes the last preparations before going off on his quest.

**TWO OF WANDS**

_Planning, First Steps, Leaving Comfort_

PERCY

Percy had to hand it to them. Reyna, Rachel, and Thalia got things done.

Annabeth had texted Rachel about them needing transport while they were driving to his mom’s. By the time they’d gotten back to camp, late that night, Rachel had found them a boat. The Yacht, she’d told them, was more than capable of crossing the Atlantic, especially with a son of Poseidon on board. It was already moored at a dock a half-hour from Camp.

“But” Rachel had advised them, “my dad gets back from Prague tomorrow night. I don’t know why he’d want the Yacht in mid-December, so he shouldn’t notice it’s missing, but still, you probably want to be in international waters by then.”

Rich friends, while difficult to relate to, were very useful.

Thalia had dug asked around camp about Witches but came up short. There were dozens of stories of campers acting strange then disappearing. The problem was that it was impossible to tell which of them had followed Luke, which had followed Lee and which had just gone home.

Reyna had been more successful, calling Camp Jupiter for information on Mary Cooper. Officer Bagshaw was back as the head of records and while he was a little suspicious about the Greeks digging for information, he’d been involved in the investigation, making him a valuable resource.

“I didn’t mention Augustus.” Reyna had told him. “Me and Thalia talked it through, and decided it was cruel to give him false hope. You might be wrong, or he could have changed, and maybe if he’s this _loved one thought lost_ and he's tried for a crime…maybe its best he doesn’t know.”

Percy knew how Rome felt about deserters, and if it was Augustus’ parent who gave the verduct…he didn’t want to think about that. He agreed they’d done the right thing, and Reyna passed him the stack of photos and reports that had been faxed over.

“Faxed?” Usually things at camp were dated as in sundials and toga’s. Not as in office equipment from the 1990’s. “We have a fax machine? Camp Jupiter has a fax machine? And both camps decided that that was the most convenient way to send documents?”

Reyna just rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I was surprised too. Apparently, it’s like how its safe to use landline calls but not Cell Phones? It doesn’t attract as many monsters since it’s offline.”

“Huh.”

She slid over the ID photo of a pasty girl with chubby cheeksand small, watery blue eyes. Her blonde hair was scraped so tightly back off her face that you could barely see it was there. She was almost unrecognisable from the pictures that Lee had kept of her, but it was Mary Cooper. It was stapled to a thick stack of densely written documents.

“Uh, do you have the cliff notes version?”

Reyna perched herself onto the edge of a bunk. Annabeth had gone to pack a bag and fill Chiron in on what they’d learned and where they were headed. They'd set off tomorrow, since it was only a week until the solstice and they didn’t how long their journey could take, considering the shenanigans they were bound to run into.

“Right, so the Coopers are one of those old, rich New Roman families. They’re all great warriors except for Mary, and she wasn’t good enough at public speaking or schmoosing to go the political route. People were surprised when she came back from Lupa in one piece, and she struggled with legion life. When she was fourteen, she disappeared in the night, and left a note saying not to look for her. Her cohort tried to brush it off as her going her own way, which happened pretty often-

“Really?”

“Yeah. Legion life is rigid, so a lot of kids struggle. If you don’t fit in, its really noticable. I mean, remember Frank before your quest? Even Jason, chafed under how strict and stuck-in-its-ways it was, and he was our big hero.'

'So anyways, Bagshaw first pointed out that Mary didn’t really have friends, and her family didn’t give her much support since that was a strained relationship, and she got a hard time for being the first cohorts weak link. He said if she'd ran away, it wasn't to chase glory, and since she had no familly outside the city, they had to look into it.”

Percy remembered how the First had treated Frank, and looked down on him before he'd been Praetor. He came back from the Argo II a strong, leader who embodied everything good about Rome. The Mary he’d seen his dreams, who Lee had loved, had grown into a leader too. She wasn’t the tragic figure from Bagshaw’s report, but she wasn’t a model Roman by any definition.

“He spoke to her parents and they told him that Mary mentioned being picked on, but they’d assumed it was just kids being kids and that she had to toughen up. But when they looked into it, it turns out it was really bad bullying, and evidence traced everything back to Octavian and his cronies. But you know how slippery he was. Mary was never heard from again; her family were heartbroken, with them and Bagshaw blaming themselves, and Octavian became centurion within a year.”

“Of course, he did.”

In their brief acquaintance Percy had watched Octavian blackmail Hazel, pardon murderers, attempt to kill all Greeks and gut his pillow pet. He could only imagine what it must have been like to have to live and train alongside him, unchecked, for years.

“Yeah.” Reyna rubbed her temples. “He was the worst. Me and Jason, before he went missing, were trying to get some legislation passed to abolish letters of recommendation and nepotism, and to put in place a better system for getting counselling and reporting abuse. Once Octavian was gone the senate realised that they needed more checks in place for megalomaniacs. Frank and I were the ones that got it through, but Jason got to see it in place. That’s why I felt like I could leave.” She gave a rueful smile “I’d done something good. My work was done.”

He remembered what Emma Smart had told him yesterday, about not wanting to leave Camp but feeling like she had to. He wondered if Mary, leaving her family behind, had done the same. It reminded him of Annabeth leaving home so many times as a kid. Her dad might have loved her, but what was use was love without care?

“That reminds me,” Said Reyna, fishing a photo out of her Parka pocket. “We’ve got a picture of Augustus. Is this the guy from your dreams?”

The photo showed Jason and Augustus, maybe eleven or twelve years old. They were wearing purple T-shirts, grinning and pointing to the legion tattoos on their forearms. 

“That’s him. How did you this if you didn’t mention Augustus?”

“Oh. He saw Thalia in the background of the call and knew she was Jason’s sister. He asked if she wanted him to send this photo of him, he had his desk along with the rest of the stuff. It was luck that Augustus was in it too.”

“Yeah, lucky. Where is Thalia anyway?”

“Getting everything ready.” Reyna said, her tone too casual, as if she were being deliberately evasive. Interesting.

“Ready for what?”

“Your quest. She and Grover talked it through and decided that she’s coming with you.”

“Huh. Okay. Do I get a say in this?”

Reyna shrugged impassively, but he could see the twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “You do if you think you can get her off of the boat.”

“She’s already there?”

“Uh huh.”

Percy knew damn well that he couldn’t get Thalia anywhere she didn'tt want to go. Not without sinking the boat at least.

“Alright. I’ll see her tomorrow then.”

She laughed then, and made towards leave. “I’ll IM her and tell her when to expect you.” She paused before she got to the door. “Percy?”

“Yeah?”

“Just…” Her brow was furrowed, thoughtful. “I know you and Annabeth liked this old lady you met, but I’d still be weary of these witches. Speaking as someone with experience in off-the grid sorceresses-“ Percy always forgot about Reyna’s past on Circe’s island, and tried to forget how easily Circe had gotten his trust by telling him pretty lies, “-and Romans. Even if this woman had fond memories of Camp Half-Blood, and they've a good opinion of you. I don’t think Mary Cooper would be that kind if you asked her about the Firth Cohort. And all these kids who fought for Kronos, or who ran away, might not be so kind either.

"So you're saying I should go into this assuming they want to kill us?

She bit her lip, like she was thinking how best to put it. “No, just…Keep your guard up. Even if these guys aren’t hostile, that might change if you try and take one of their own to trial. And, while you’re away,” She cast a glance over her shoulder as if she was worried someone might come in and hear her. “keep an eye on Thalia?”

That little question hit Percy harder than all of the information, and the warnings that Reyna had piled onto him. From the first minute you met Thalia, she struck you as someone who didn’t need looking after by anyone. He would have told her that, but Reyna looked so earnest, and _worried_ which was rare for her.

“Please?” As if she'd read his mind, she continued. “She’s had a rough year. And she was so adamant to go on this quest. I think she wanted to get away for a while, and think about things, so just…look after her, okay?”

How could you argue with that? “I will. As much as she’ll let me."

“Good. Thanks.” Relief flooded onto Reyna’s face, before she blushed, cringing a little. “And please don’t tell her that I asked.”

“I won’t. And thank _you_ , Reyna.”

She gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Don’t mention it. Goodnight, Percy.”

“G’night.”

“And Percy? Good luck.”

\---

That night he’d fallen asleep in Annabeth’s arms. Despite camp rules, knowing what he and Annabeth had been through, no one would dare comment on them sleeping alongside each other. Even if they did, they were both adults, she had an invisibility hat and he had his own cabin. Who was going to stop them?

His dream showed him Thalia. He was more and more sure that subconsciously his thoughts shaped these visions. He was anticipating seeing Thalia, ergo she appeared in his dreams. Maybe it went two ways. Did Velia’s memories trace back to what was on her mind?

They sat at the end of the dock at Camp, soon after the Giant war had ended. Between her coordinating the hunt and making up lost time with Jason, it wasn’t until the day before she was leaving that that they’d really talked. It was probably the longest that they’d had one-on-one since the end of the titan war.They’d been there hours, talking about the adventures they’d been on over the past year. He watched himself telling Thalia about how after he'd caught himself and Annabeth alone together in the stables, Coach Hedge had made it his life’s mission to make sure they weren’t left alone together.

“-Honestly, it was like a sixth sense. It didn’t matter where we were, he’d be busting open doors yelling, _three feet apart cupcakes_. Our bedrooms? There was Hedge. Communal areas? Hedge. Supply closet? Hedge.”

“And what were you two doing alone in a supply closet?”

“I'm not saying his concerns were unfounded. I'm saying he was annoying. If we were alone, he knew somehow.”

Thalia lay down, snickering.

“What?” He asked, settling next to her.

“Y’know. You. Annabeth. Together. Dating.”

“Yeah? Why? did it surprise you?”

Percy had asked completely seriously, but it sent Thalia from snickering, to uncontrollable laughter, rolling to her side and clutching her middle.

“Hey!” He remembered trying not to feel offended., thinking that she was laughing at the idea of he and Annabeth together.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She’d said between gasps. “But, gods Percy, everyone knew! There'd been a betting pool you were about fourteen, on when you two would get together. You were both _so_ obvious, I could tell she had a crush on you within, like, three weeks of being not a tree. Literally, everyone just waiting for you two to admit it to each other.”

“Huh…” Dream- Percy took a minute to process all of that. He’d spent most of his teenage years trying to ignore his crush on Annabeth- he’d only really had the headspace to act on it once the war was over. It was weird to think that other people had discussed or predicted it, or that she'd had one on him too.

“Who, uh, won the bet? Was it Grover?”

“Nope.”

“One of the Aphrodite cabin?”

"No."

"A Stoll Brother?"

“Clarisse.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m dead serious, she won nearly ninety dollars and eighteen gold Drachma’s. Grover said you’d tell her before the final battle, in case something happened, whereas Clarisse said not the fighting was done. Why do you think everyone was waiting ready to throw you into the lake? They wanted to see who would cash in.”

“Huh.”

“But hey, Percy?” Thalia cocked her head back to face him, suddenly serious. “I’m glad it happened, that you two have each other. Annabeth’s been let down and let go a lot, but never by you. Instead you snuck on the quest for her, fell into Tartarus for her. She can depend on you.”

“Yeah well,” Percy was blushing and trying to duck away from Thalia’s gaze, “I love her, so…there’s that.”

“Yeah?” Thalia was still smirking, but her voice had become a little wistful. “What’s that like?”

That was a tricky question. Percy wasn’t always the best at putting things into words and neither he, Thalia or Annabeth were especially mushy people.

“It’s like…I always want to see her. Even if we’ve been fighting, or I only saw her yesterday, or when I couldn’t remember who she was. I’d rather be with her than with anyone else. Does that make sense?”

Percy was kind of impressed with past-Percy. That description of love held up. It wasn’t like he couldn’t live without Annabeth, or anything like that. They had lives outside of each other; they went to different colleges and had their own friends. But he never got tired of being around her, and he was always exited to see her.

“Yeah. That makes a lot of sense. Sounds nice.” Thalia sounded pensive, but it didn’t last long. She pulled herself off the ground and offered him a hand.

“C’mon. Dinner’s ready soon. I want to pig out on camp barbeque while I still can.”

As Percy took her hand, the dream shifted. Instead of watching Thalia helping him up, he was watching Velia's friend Paul helping her down. The scenes would have looked pretty similar, except that Velia a lot girlier than Thalia, and Paul was sitting fully clothed and crying in an empty bathtub. He shuddered to think how this paralleled his own life.

“You pillock.” What Percy assumed was a super British word, sounded weird with Velia’s American-ish accent. It was like the time he called his English teacher an Old Sot. It wasn’t vocabulary that you’d expect from a twelve-year old New Yorker, but it just felt _right_.

“Hey Vel. You feeling any better?”

“I stopped vomiting yesterday, which was a big improvement. Move up.”

Paul moved his legs to the side and helped her climb into the bath next to him. Once she’d settled down, Paul laid his head on her shoulder and she wrapped an arm around him. Even if they hadn’t been in a bath, there was nothing romantic about the way they held each other.

“I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?”

“No, of course you haven’t.” Velia rubbed his shoulder. “Look, she’s been fooling around with Electric Barry for years. They’re still great friends, and there’s no tension. If there’s nothing there, then there’s no reason you can’t just ignore it and carry on as usual, like you’ve done when you’ve made out.”

Ah. Girl troubles. People always asked Percy questions as if his relationship with Annabeth meant he was the expert on love, when really all it meant was that he was an expert on Annabeth.

“Ugh, ‘Make out’ sounds bloody awful. It’s too cold and American.” He mumbled into Velia’s sweater.

“Yeah? Well ‘Necking on’ and ‘snogging’ both sound disgusting, so you’re one to talk. Stop changing the subject, Paul. You don’t want to just ignore it and carry on as usual, do you?”

“No. I love her.” He said it the same way Percy would admit to smashing a plate. Like he was worried he’d get into trouble if he said it out loud.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Paul said it with more conviction. “Yeah, I love her.”

“What’s it like?” Velia didn’t say it like an accusation, or a test. She just sounded curious.

“Its like.” He rested his head back against the tiles. “I like myself when I’m with her. I don’t worry that I’m too thick, or too common or not masculine enough. I feel _enough_. There’s no pretending. She understands what I mean when I can’t find the words. We _know_ each other. I mean, I know all of you like that but-“

“But you don’t want to kiss us when you’re drunk?”

“Well,” He said, a teasing tone in his voice. “You and August are family. But Hamish? What’s a cheeky snog between two bros?”

Velia clamped her eyes shut, choking on her laugh. “There’s a mental image. Still, Paul, it makes a lot of sense.” She softened for a second, and Percy got a feeling that she wasn’t thinking about Paul and this girl that he liked. “Because, _If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known.”_

“That’s it, exactly. Where’d you get that from?”

“Hamish said it once and it stuck. I don’t know where he got it though.”

“Ah.” Paul said, smirking.

“What?”

“Oh nothing. Just you and Hamish, pondering the nature of love. Sounds like a cosy- HEY!” Velia had hit him with the rolled up shower curtain. “Ugh, that is minging! How’s it still wet?”

“Stop changing the subject!” Velia said. “ _She’s_ made herself known.”

“Has she? Or has she been making the beast with two backs with Electric Barry.”

“You know that doesn’t matter. Or if it does, to you, even more the point. It’s your turn. If you want this to end well, whether you go for it or not, you two have to talk about it.”

“Uuurgh.” He started tapping his head against the wall. “How do you know that, even if she likes me back a little bit, if we try, it won’t end horribly? What if afterwards we hate each other and the five of us being friends is ruined forever. What if we break up and she gets Hamish and split custody of you?”

Velia looked down at him, equally amused and despairing. “Okay, that’s the worst-case scenario. Best case scenario: It doesn’t. Instead it goes great. Paul,” She took his face in her hands, fixing him in her gaze. “You have the chance here, to be happy. That’s rare for anyone. Rarer for half-bloods. If you don’t want a relationship, that’s okay, but if you want this, then you can't just throw it away.”

He sighed, nestling back into her.

“I hate that you’re right.”

“I know.”

“Does anyone else know that I have feelings for Trip?”

“Yes. You two weren’t subtle. Even August knows.”

Paul let out a low whistle. “Oh god. If August noticed, then it must be obvious.”

They chuckled at that, like it was an old joke. Paul took a thoughtful look up at Velia, keeping his head resting on her shoulder.

“Thankyou, though, Velia. You really shouldn’t have to do this for me. Listening to all of my bullshit when you’ve got your own problems.”

Velia Rolled her eyes dismissively, but even she was tearing up at this point. “Of course I do. We’re cousins, aren’t we? Besides, my whole life is built on problems. That doesn’t make yours any less important,” She let the silence hang heavy in the air for a moment. When she continued, her voice was deliberately casual.

“You know you saved my life back then. Just as much as Hamish and Trip did,”

Paul outright scoffed at that. “How? As I remember, those two did the heroics, while I was here teaching eight-year-olds to play the ukulele.”

“Fuck heroics. You were kind. You looked after me?” They were simple statements, but Velia’s voice was firm, and as warm as Percy had ever heard it, laced with meanings that he couldn't understand. He felt more like an interloper than ever. 

“That was just- “

“That was enough.”

The dream faded away on the image of two cousins holding onto one another, as if they were keeping each other tethered to the earth. And in a bath, for some reason.

AUGUSTUS

Augustus didn't know much about relationships.

Until he’d gone to college a couple of months ago he'd been limited to a couple of quick kisses with Witches on the shadowy edges of bonfires. That was partly because he struggled to tell when someone was interested in him, (he wasn't, as Velia had delicately put it, the most observant), but really it was more than that. most of his teenage years were spent adjusting to his life changing so drastically and working out what he wanted from his future. Between his friends, school and working, he hadn’t really felt the desire for relationships. He'd told himself that he'd have time for all that once he got to college, he’d understand himself and what he wanted.

When he'd gotten there, he'd met Rihana. They both took the same route on their morning run. She was studying classics, so she was pretty impressed by his knowledge of Ancient Rome and she was really easy to talk to. But Augustus wasn’t. There was so much about his life and past that he couldn’t talk about, and it felt wrong to build a relationship on half-truths and lies by omission. He’d kind of let things between them fizzle out. At least if it ended early, they could still be friends.

Still, that didn’t equip him (or Hamish, who somehow had even _less_ experience) to deal with Tripta and Paul. That was an absolute mess, three years in the making.

Paul hadn’t given them many details. From what they could gather, he’d refused to define their relationship and that had caused an argument ending inTripta calling him a coward and telling him to leave. Neither of knew how to push him for details, or even if they should. Instead they’d gone back to Hamish’s block, watched movies, and attempted to take Paul’s mind off it. Despite their efforts, at breakfast the next morning Paul looked rough. All red eyed and pale, it was obvious that he’d been crying. Poor guy. Still in his pyjama pants and dwarfed by a sweatshirt he’d borrowed from Hamish; he looked a little pathetic.

Tripta didn’t. August didn’t think she was capable of looking pathetic. She was too tall, and cheekbone-ey. She’d strode through the mess-tent in her yellow coat, head held high as Pauls gaze followed her from the door to the counter. She didn’t even look at him.

Augustus had felt a stab of anger then. Paul was here heartbroken, and in swanned Trip Singh-Chakra as if nothing had happened. He tried to rationalise with himself that he barely knew what had happened, and that Paul had clearly done s _omething._ Nevertheless, love and loyalty meant his instinct was to side with Paul.

She'd sat onthe other side of the tent with her food and her friends from the maintenance team (mainly descendants of craftsman and smith gods, who kept the camps rundown buildings lit, heated, and not leaking when they weren’t busy honing their own skills.) Meanwhile Velia and Hamish exchanged a series of incomprehensible gestures and looks from opposite ends of the room before the two of them swapped seats.

As soon as Velia reached them, Paul had grasped her free hand in both of his.

“Oh god, I was right, wasn’t I? Tripta got Hamish. I thought I’d get a chance to say goodbye at least. How long do I have you for? Is it like a weekend-weekday custody situation?”

Paul’s voice had taken up a rapid-fire, bantering tone, in a weak attempt to put up his usual front. Velia cut him off.

“We’re not there yet Paul. I’m here because, A, we said we’d pick up those cartons for your dad while he de-iced the big freezer. I was promised a McDonalds if I went with you and I’m holding you to that. B, I didn’t think that you’d have talked yesterday through with the guys and you really need to. Right?”

August and Paul both mumbled in agreement, a little sheepish.

“Right.”

“Okay, so Hamish and Trip are going to train together, meanwhile you can tell me your side of it in the Van. Two things first-“

“Is one of them ‘I told you so’?”

“No. You already told me I was right yesterday, so there’s no need. “

“Good to know. Okay, hit me.”

“First off, how are you feeling? This must be pretty awful for you.”

Paul winced, “Pretty awful sums it up. And stupid. Confused too. I want to make this better, but it all happened so fast and I don’t really know how.”

“Okay. That makes sense.” Vel rubbed soft circles onto the back Paul’s hand with her thumb. “The second thing is,“ she let her hands go slack, “What the hell were you thinking, Parker?”

\---

Velia waited until they were on the motorway before she told Paul to start talking. That was probably a good move, because even at 70mph, Paul looked like he was considering opening the door and rolling out the Van.

Hamish had once joked that Velia and Paul dressed like they were characters from two two different teen movies. At the minute though, next to Paul’s messy hair and double denim, Velia’s vintage, black and white blouse and dress, made her look like a school councillor trying to find out what had caused a fight or like she was denying Paul’s loan application.

Deciding the jump wasn’t worth it, Paul tightened his grip on the steering wheel as if he were bracing for impact and started.

“Alreet. So, the other day I finished up with the choir and I swang by the forge so we could walk up to dinner together. Only I get there and there’s Tripta, alone and having a chat on with Electric Barry-“

“Who’s electric Barry? Does he have, like, storm powers or something?” Remembering the stuff that Jason could do, August supposed that could make Paul more than a little nervous to interrupt them. Both the Parkers turned to give him an incredulous look.

“Robert Barbur? You sat next to him in Maths for two years? He does the electrical wiring at camp?”

“Oh, that Barry! Sorry I didn’t know that was his nickname.”

“How? August, you live here, how- ? No. We’ll come back to that later. So, with him and Tripta being friends with benefits-“

“What? No!”

Another look from the Parkers. “Again, how do you not know that? It’s been discussed in front of you like… Again, doesn’t matter. Trip and Electric have had that thing since they were about sixteen. And it gave me a bit of a mixed signal but I never said owt since-“

“Since you gave her your express permission?” Velia said it with an eyebrow raised, daring Paul to disagree. Paul, to his credit, just looked confused.

“I did what? When?”

Vel groaned and hit her head on the dashboard.

“She sat down in front of you before dinner, remember? She told you that they were good friends, and it scratched an itch and there was no danger of it becoming romantic. But then she said you had to tell her if it would make things uncomfortable because she didn’t want anyone hurting, or things to get weird. That it didn’t mean she was against things between “Us”-” Velia put in the air quotes as she spoke, “-developing in the future? But it was on you to tell her if anything changed? Does that ring any bells Paul?”

“You remember that really well.” August said, not meaning to sound insensitive. He was honestly kind of impressed. But Velia just huffed, indignant.

“Yes, because I listened to her practice what she was going to say, before she told you that. And I’ve heard a rehash of it, every time you two have carried on, since.” Velia’s voice had gained that cold edge that meant she was getting frustrated. “It’s a shame it didn’t leave the same impression on Paul.”

“Hang on, I remember this,” Paul said defensively. “she didn’t want things to be weird with the Maintenance Squad, what does this have to do with…oh god. Me. She meant me and her, didn’t she?”

Velia threw up her hands like she was thanking god.

“Yes. You two had kissed for the first time maybe a month before hand. Why would she be asking _you_ , all this if she meant Barry?”

“ _Fuck_ , because I thought she was worried about work, and I know a lot of the maintenance guys because you order supplies though me Dad making it easy for me to keep an eye out! And a little because _I_ had a crush on Barry when were kids, soI thought she might be making sure that was gone. And it was! Because I had a crush on Tripta by then!”

Augustus couldn’t believe Paul then. He’d always thought Paul was so perceptive, but he supposed his poor self image might have stood in the way of that. Before he could give his input, Velia gave a look that said, _don’t even bother._

“August, you didn’t know that Electric and Trip had a thing until five minutes ago. You can’t criticise anyone for not noticing things. But yeah, Paul, that -and the fact that she’s more romantic than she wants to admit, and also has some self-respect- was why she’s been waiting on you to make a move.”

Paul frantically drummed on the steering wheel. “I came in, and Electric we all said hi, but then he turns to her and says that they _could tonight, if she was free_. But before she answers Barry looks up at me and I don’t know what I must look like, because he goes, _sorry, we can go some other night if yous are doing something together._

And that’s when I fuck up, because on impulse I go _We aren’t together._ And instead of backtracking, or saying I mean, Trip doesn’t have any plans I don’t say anything else. And Tripta is just stood there, looking at me. So, after a minute she says to him, _maybe some other time_.

And then me and her are left alone. And she’s still just looking at me, and its like looking at a statue. And I get insecure because unlike me Barry is smart in the same way she is , he’s taller than Trip, he can grow a beard-“

“Does Tripta like beards?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t grow one. And eventually she says _so_? And I say _so what_? And we’re glaring now, and she asks me _what my issue is if we aren’t together._ And I say she knows damn well what it is, and she asks me _does she_? And I said-“

He paused mid-story as he pulled into the McDonalds carpark.

“-I said she was heartless, to carry on with whoever she liked, when I didn’t know where we stood. That’s when she got angry, telling me that if I couldn’t separate the physical and emotional, that was on me, and if I didn’t know where we stood that was on me too because she’d made it very clear how she felt about me. If it were anyone else, she said, she’d think they were an idiot. But she knew that I wasn’t, so that could only mean I was a coward, and she was the idiot for choosing me.”

Paul had started to cry again, by then, and Augustus didn’t blame him. Paul had bit out at her first, and deserved the brunt of the blame, but he knew from arguing with her just how cutting Tripta could be, if she was genuinely angry. His words kept spilling out, in a long stream of mess.

“And then she was _looking_ at me again, and I couldn’t think what to say. I couldn’t stop thinking this wasn’t how it was meant to be, or how it is in films. This couldn’t be how I told her I loved her. And the word Coward is ringing through my head. And she just…” He was really struggling to keep going now.

“Lost it?” Augustus tried to spare Paul from finishing the sentence. But Paul shook his head, his tears only coming more quickly.

“No.” He shook his head, scrubbing at his eyes with his fists. “No. I would have known what to do with that. She just…closed up. her face, her body, everything went completely stiff. And she said in this flat voice, _Go. I can’t stand to look at you anymore._ And I did.”

Paul, still Crying, climbed over the gearshift to sit on the double-seat between Tripta and Velia. It was uncomfortable, but they stayed there for a while. They’d done this a lot, with August when he’d been stressed about exams. The _Emotional Support Sandwich_ , they called it.

After Paul calmed down a little, he muttered, “Maybe I’m just not cut out for love, in a relationship-kind of way. Maybe its in my blood.”

“Your blood?” August murmured. “You’re the son of Aphrodite, so that can’t be it.”

But Paul shook his head. “Can’t it? Name one story where her intervening does any good. Cupid and Psyche, she does her best to fuck that up. Arguably, she starts the Trojan war. She’d married off to Hephaestus because the other gods worry she’s dangerous, and it makes him miserable.

So what if she represents this, this sublime, terrible love that causes wars and destruction. Maybe she’d been warped by all the cultures she’s gone through, to fit mortals modern ideas of what romantic love is about? Or maybe this is her doing her best? I don’t know if any god can understand love the way we experience it. She isn’t human, so how could she possibly represent such a human emotion?”

Augustus hadn’t expected this from Paul. That wasn’t to say that Paul was shallow or superficial but he never spoke about the gods or myths or their mother, unless it was to make jabs, or jokes. He kept going.

“My dad’s never had a proper relationship. He told me once, with my mother it wasn't really love. Mainly he was flattered that someone so cultured and glamorous would look at him. I’ve got so much love in my life already. I love you two, and my dad, and the rest of my family. I love my music, and my life at camp. Maybe asking for another kind of love is selfish. I mean, it just ruined a great friendship. Its my fault for not being happy with what I have”

“Were you thinking about this last night?” August said gently, as Velia carded a hand through Paul’s hair. He nodded. “Is that what you want?” A shrug. “No?” A reluctant nod.

Augustus thought about Rihana. The experience had hurt, but it had taught him something.

“Then you know what I think?” August offered. “I think love needs chemistry, but it also needs timing and circumstance. You and Tripta are three for three. If you don’t want this, its fine, but its all on you two now.”

Velia gave Augusts shoulder a comforting squeeze. The Parkers knew all about August’s brief love life, so she must have realised where he was speaking from.

“He’s right, Paul.” Velia had that rare open look on her face, where for once you knew exactly what she was feeling. “And you aren’t _greedy._ You wouldn’t have this, this massive capacity for love unless you were meant to use it, would you?”

“Does that even matter now? She doesn’t want to see me. I’ve ruined everything.”

August and Velia both shushed him in unison.

“Hey, man, its not over till its over.”

“Mh hm,” Velia agreed. “The Tripta I spoke to last night was upset and confused, and pretty angry at you. But she was also worried about you. And worried that she’d been too harsh. She didn’t sound like someone who’d given up on you just yet.”

“So what do I do?”

Velia shrugged as best she could in their awkward position, and said in a tone as dry as chalk “Beats me. This is way beyond my maturity and experience level, and I am clearly _way_ too close to both Parties involved.”

The two boys let out startled laughs at that. Velia sat up and reached towards the door.

“But, I think, you two might want to give it some time. I mean, we don’t have forever here, but just a day or so to think. First, however,” Velia lowered her voice as if she was about to give some sage advice, but a twitch in the corner of her mouth gave her away. “we go into McDonalds and get lunch. And we do it soon, because those kids are looking at us like we’re crazy.”

Sure enough a pack of fourteen year old boys in tracksuits who’d been hanging around the parking lot, had stopped throwing napkins at pigeons, distracted by the three young adults sat spooning and crying in the front of a grocers van.

Paul flipped the kids off, and August gave his best wolf stare, while Velia just laughed, giving them the royal wave. For a little while, as they got their food and talked about Yule and the leaky shop roof, everything was good again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're making tracks now! I'm aware that my Chapters are obscenely long, considering not much happens in them, and for a Percy Jackson Fanfiction, this contains almost no action and all talking about feelings, but oh well!Again I am so sorry about the Re-upload! This is why we don't post chapters at 3Am- sleep deprevation makes us post the wrong file!  
> I feel like the Percy and Thalia, and Percy and Clarisse friendships are criminally underated and I wish I saw more of them. Also Percy is the little spoon. I like to think its because it covers up his achilles spot.  
> Meanwhile with my Witches, I honestly like to think of Paul and Tripta as a bit of a warped Percabeth dynamic. Plus, Is that 19 year olds are idiots. Also, accent wise, Paul is a Geordie and Tripta's Manc. I woul'd write out their accents phonetically but no one would be able to understand Paul.  
> And August and Velia are good friends- we're going to see a little more of them and their dynamic next week, when we start to learn a little about Velia's past, in frustratingly Vague terms.  
> The Quote about the 'mortifying ordeal of being known is from this artical: https://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2013/06/15/i-know-what-you-think-of-me/ and countless memes, shitposts and tumblr posts!  
> Again, thanks so much to everyone who leaves kudos and comments, Its so helpful and lovely to hear! Also sorry for the excessively long replies sometimes :-)  
> Have a lovely week, and see yous next Sunday.


	10. Six of Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving On, Leaving Behind, Departure  
> The quest begins, and all our characters are left to reconcile with their feelings.

**SIX OF SWORDS**

_Moving On, Leaving Behind, Departure_

PERCY

Percy had been on a lot of quests on boats, even for a son of Poseidon. He’d sailed and almost died aboard the Princess Andromeda, the CSS Birmingham, the Queen Anne’s Revenge, the Pax, the Argo II, and now The Beloved. The name was pretty on the nose since they’d been sent to find the ‘ _loved one thought lost’_ , but he wasn’t about to complain. It had been an anniversary gift between Rachel’s parents, which he didn’t really get since they didn’t seem too crazy about open water. Or each other, for that matter.

That’s why the second thing that Percy thought when he saw the Yacht was that _these people have too much money._ The first had been _holy shit._ The Beloved was very fancy; streamlined and almost blindingly white, even under the overcast winter light. Unlike the Argo II, it hadn’t been built with a skeleton crew of teenagers in mind.

Thalia, in black and silver, stood out. Her chunky combat boots left a trail of dirt on clean, pressed cushions. She’d taken off her lieutenant’s Tiara and was fidgeting with it, passing it through her hands as she stared at the horizon. Once she noticed them approaching, she snapped to life, shoving the crown back onto her head and holding her arms out to gesture to the rest of the boat.

“Pretty nice, right?”

The pier wasn’t made to accommodate million-dollar pleasure vessels, so to get on board they had to climb up a thin rope ladder, which jostled with the wind and the movement of the water. Thalia helped up. Well, she helped Annabeth. As soon as she’d gotten both feet onto the dock, Annabeth had wrapped Thalia up in a hug, and the two of them started a rapid-fire discussion of what they’d learnt from Emma yesterday, and what their plan was.

Even though they spent months apart, Annabeth and Thalia were as close as ever. He wondered how their friendship would evolve, as Annabeth turned twenty, thirty, fifty, eighty years old and Thalia stayed a day away from sixteen. He had these deep musings on love and time as he hauled himself and his rucksack onto the deck.

“Oh, hey Percy.” Thalia said casually, as if she hadn’t just watched him scramble aboard like a toddler climbing out of a swimming pool, over Annabeth’s shoulder. “Nice of you to join us.”

When he was thirteen that would have infuriated him. Now it made him smile. “Nice to be here.” Now he was on deck he could hear that Thalia had found a speaker system, and her taste in Music hadn’t changed.

“GreenDay? Seriously?” He grimaced. “Thalia, you know music kept being made after you were turned into a tree, right? Albums other than American Idiot exist.”

She scoffed. “Says the guy who won’t listen to anything made after 1990.”

“Hey!” Granted, Percy prided himself on his taste in music, which he’d acquired largely from his mom. “It’s classic!”

“It’s tired.”

“It’s-“

“It’s noise.” Annabeth cut them off. She’d listened to this argument often enough to know to nip it the bud early. “And I seem to remember there being a reason that we’re stealing a boat today?”

“Are we stealing a boat, per say?”

“The owner of the boat doesn’t know we’re taking it, so yes Percy, we are stealing a boat.

“Nice.” Thalia looked too happy at the prospect of committing a felony.

“Thanks for coming, by the way.” Percy thought he’d better tell her now, while he remembered and before they started clawing at each other’s throats

She gave him a tight smile. “Yeah, well, it’s no problem. I thought it might be nice to get away for a while. A change of scenery.”

“Why?” Annabeth looked concerned, hands hovering over Thalia’s shoulders. “Is everything okay?”

It was weird, Thalia was only just starting to look younger than Percy and Annabeth, since her punky style made her seem a little older than she was, but in that moment Thalia looked impossibly old.

Percy had spent a lot of this past week thinking about how they’d all grown and changed. Maybe Thalia, suspended in youth, felt a different kind of nostalgia. Maybe, as she pinned on a smile, she still saw Annabeth aged seven, and hers to protect.

“Of course, it is, but _c’mon_. Mysteries, another camp, making fun of Percy together- “

“Hey!”

“-I mean, me and Reyna do it, but it’s not the same since she respects him, for some reason-“

“Again, _Hey.”_

“-besides, when was the last time we all hung out together, just us three? I like the hunt, but I miss you guys. How could I say no?”

She sounded convincing, but Reyna’s his conversation with Reyna about Thalia replayed in his head as she gave them a tour of the boat. It had a lot of sleek white stuff, a lot of gold Trim and a lot of fancy tech that they couldn’t use without attracting every monster on the Atlantic. There were two bedrooms too, one double one single. Thalia made it clear that she and Annabeth would be sharing. He should have known when he told her about Coach Hedge interrupting himself and Annabeth, Thalia finish what he started.

Before they set off over the ocean, Annabeth suggested that he send up a quick prayer to his dad, since Thalia was on board. Percy wasn’t one-hundred-percent sure if he could board a flight without Zeus frying his guts, and Thalia had never been on a boat bigger than a raft before so it was probably smart to check in with his dad before they set out on a long haul voyage. The fastest commercial crossing of the Atlantic, according to google, took nearly three days. They were aiming for four days, maybe five.

That was what lead Percy kneel in the Bridge, praying the world’s most awkward prayer. He didn’t pray to his dad very often, and when he did it was a spur of the moment kind of thing, so he had no idea how to go about this.

_Hey, uh Father. It’s, uh, its been a while. Hope you’re well. We’re going sailing now. On a quest, which might be important. Or not. We don’t really know what we’re doing. But if you could do us a solid and grant us safe-ish passage, that would be great. Also, I’m travelling with Annabeth and Thalia? I know you don’t like their parents much, but if you could smite them that would be cool. Not that I’m assuming you would. Just thought I’d check. Thanks._

This was accompanied by an equally pathetic offering. In place of a brassier they used a metal wastepaper basket that they’d found in one of the bedrooms, to burn an offering a of two bags of Cheetos and half of Thalia’s trail mix (The good stuff, with a lot of M&M’s and no raisins.)

Urging the boat to move at full speed, Percy was reminded of his journey to the sea of monsters, in one of the Princess Andromeda’s lifeboats. At least then they’d had specific co-ordinates. This time just willing the boat _East._

Back then he’d been terrified by how vague their plan had seemed, how much rode on it and how little he’d understood the forces that were driving him.

Not much had changed.

But that wasn’t necessarily bad. This time too, he was going with two friends who he trusted instinctively, who he loved and would do anything for. That was enough for him.

Annabeth and Thalia stood flanking him, standing at the window, all looked straight ahead at something, everything and nothing, all at once.

AUGUSTUS

Augustus had spent a lot of time in the Camp store. A converted shipping container, it sold the standard supplies: food, batteries, and water bottlesm and housed the Exchange, where Witches could bring their old clothes to swap for new ones. He worked there thanks to the retail skills he’d picked up from the parkers. Vela worked on the exchange, repairing the old stuff that came in, and understanding the baffling ticketing system.

He was there now, reading a history novel, while Velia made a new blind for the main office, since the old one was on its last legs. It was just the two of them, since Paul was at his dads, and Hamish had ended up joining Trip on the maintenance team for their yearly Holiday lunch. It turns out that was what Electric Barry was inviting Tripta to when Paul had walked in yesterday.

“Why wouldn’t she tell Paul that he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion?”

Velia took the pins out of his mouth to answer him. “Because it’s irrelevant. If they aren’t together then its none of his business what she does with anyone else. Plus, it wasn't as if he was saying anything to inspire affection. As much as I love Paul, I don't blame her for not rolling over for someone who's not willing to stand up for her."

“Okay, then why didn’t you tell him earlier, about him misunderstanding or Trip's feelings or any of the rest of it?” She shrugged, the whirring, clacking sound of the machine stopping for a moment as she double-checked her measurements.

“Because it wasn't my place- I'm too close to both of them, and it wouldn't have done any good." 

Velia didn’t lie, but Paul was right when he said that she had her secrets, living her whole life on a need to know basis. Augustus had never really understood the appeal, until he got to college and realised that most of his stories, his personal history, had to be censored for mortal ears.

Velia’s advice, as she’d helped him pack, had been never to lie. Instead tell the simplest version of the truth, and let people draw their own conclusions. To say he’d lost his parents, was raised by his dads’ friend, and when that stopped being feasible, he came to the UK live with his half-brother and his family. She’d made it all sound so easy, he remembered, rattling it all off without stopping folding shirts.

 _“Is that what you do?”_ He’d asked, thinking about how little he knew about Velia’s own past. He’d never pushed it because she never brought it up. If she practiced what she preached, then it worked. It set him a little off kilter that a sliver of what she knew about his life, was as much as everything he knew about her. _“Do you not talk about your past because it’s painful to, or because you don’t want us to hear it?”_

He hadn’t meant it as an accusation, but it had come out like one. He was about to backtrack, but then Velia had answered him.

_“Can’t it be both?”_

All the Parkers all had dark brown eyes. So did August, which they joked was proof he was part of the family. While Paul’s were warm and expressive, Velia’s were bigger and darker, deep, and sharp. If Paul’s eyes were the window to his soul, hers were a drill boring into yours. For a second, though her gaze was sad and searching. From what little he knew about Velia’s past, her lost family and her injury, he couldn’t imagine it being a happy story.

He shook himself from macabre thoughts. He was sick of talking about sad things. He’d meant to ask Paul’s dad about him getting a tattoo, but he’d have to wait a few days for things to calm down first.

“Why Rick? Velia looked away from her work to him, confused. “He doesn’t have tattoos, other than those awful stick-and-poke ones his mate did when they were teenagers.”

He knew that, but it just seemed like the kind of thing that Patrick Parker would know or know someone who did.

“I mean,” He added, “there are like a thousand Parker’s and hyphen-Parkers scattered around the place. At least one of you guys must be able to recommend a tattoo artist.”

The Parkers were a big family. As well as the couple of them who lived above the Store, there were always Parkers coming and going. That’s why no one questioned Velia, a distant relative, had come here despite having never met Paul and Rick before arriving.

“You’re right. There is.”

“Great. If you know them, are they close by? Could you ask them for me?” He said, grinning.

Velia snorted. “August, I am them. I went to the guy who Mary recommended.”

“Seriously? _You_ have a tattoo? Since When”

He’d never seen it, and he couldn’t think when she would have gotten it, unless it was with Hamish’s on one of their trips. Typically, they involved dealings with the network of not-quite-mortal traders, craftsmen and thieves that spanned the world, and included Hamish’s uncle, the forger. August had been with them before, usually to magic markets or to find ingredients for witchcraft when the camp ran short. They lasted a couple of days, max, although Hamish and Velia had been gone for over a fortnight once. Apparently, they told him all the places they went to, but wouldn’t tell them why.

“The weekend I turned eighteen- remember the day me and Trip went into the city with our Coven? It’s not like I made a big deal about it.”

He looked her up and down, like he was checking for any tattoos, despite Velia’s skin being covered up to her neck and wrists. She rolled her eyes and stood, rolling her sleeve up to show him with a dry ‘ta-dah.’

No wonder he hadn’t noticed it before. It was of a constellation, in white ink, very simple and delicately done and not much bigger than a matchbox. It suited her.

“Stars.” He murmured, pausing for permission look closer. The nine stars were joined by dotted lines to show the outline of a person holding something. It wasn’t a constellation he was familiar with, but then Augustus only knew the Greek ones properly. Vaguely he remembered that tarot card that Velia kept pinned to her wall, had a woman on it. “Like your tarot poster?”

Velia nodded, ghosting her thumb over the ink.

“Is that why you got it? Because the card means hope?”

“A little. And for a friend.” She said it softly, almost to herself.

Augustus dared to push a little further, asking “Who?” but as soon as the word slipped out of his mouth, the walls inside Velia slid seamlessly back into place.

“No one that you knew. They’re gone now.”

She didn’t say it, but everything about the careful way she chose her words and the short, hard sentences that she used told him not to push any further.

“Anyway,” She said, her voice deliberately lighter, “Are you getting yours covered? Why’d you finally change your mind?” Yes, she was changing the subject, but there was real curiosity behind the question.

For years, August’s tattoo had been an elephant in the room. Most of Ex-Romans got theirs covered up as soon as they turned eighteen. Some would travel abroad or use fake ID’s to get there’s rid of sooner. They kept them covered whenever they left camp, so no one would ask about them. Not August though. He’d ever made any effort to conceal his, or _Get it Fixed_ , as the witches put it, when he turned eighteen last September.

It was still a part of him, he’d wanted to scream. Rome, his ancestors, his family, were all still his. He didn’t want them gone. He wasn’t like _them_ , he’d wanted to yell at the runaways. He hadn’t wanted to come here. He hadn’t chosen to leave it all behind. He was still Roman.

It wasn’t until Jason’s funeral that August had realised that he wasn’t anymore. Not quite. He hadn’t thrown off his old life like a heavy pack, like the others, but he’d changed. It wasn’t deliberate but it was definite. It was like how his name had been shortened over the years. Somewhere along the line Augustus had been shortened to August. The name still had roman roots, but it wasn’t that of an Emperor anymore, it was its own thing.

Watching them burn Jason’s shroud, he’d felt like trespasser. He’d realised he was more a witch than one of the romans below. Once he’d gotten home, and the dark clouds of his grief had cleared a little, his Tattoo started to bother him. It wasn’t like how Mary, or Darnell or any other ex-legionnaires hated the tattoos, seeing them as underserved scars, or a brand that he needed to escape. It simply wasn’t his anymore. 

“-So,” He said, nearing the end of his speech, “I want to get something more specific, more mine. And preferably easier to explain to people at college.”

Velia nodded, like that made sense. “What were you thinking of getting?”

“Storm clouds maybe? I saw ones online that do them with black and white ink, which should show up pretty well on my skin, so that’s great if your guy does white ink. A lot of places don’t.”

“Yeah it does. …if you don’t mind me asking, is that for…?”

“Jason. Yeah. I know it seems a little dumb but- “

“Not at all.” Velia interrupted him. “No. It’s a healthy way to remember, I think. To move on without leaving behind.”

He was equally startled and comforted by her conviction. Yeah, she was secretive, but Velia was empathetic, and sensible and she hadn’t led him astray yet.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She’d long since rolled her sleeve down, but she rubbed her forearm where the tattoo was. It was funny, Augustus had picked up on that tick of hers, months ago. Not knowing about the ink there, he’d just assumed it was strain, since that arm took most of the weight when Velia fired a crossbow.

“My friend, uh,” She winced as she spoke as though it hurt her find the words, her usual self-assuredness peeling back for a moment. “I didn’t know them long. But they saved me, and other people too. They mourned the stars. I thought it was a good tribute to them.”

It was barely a snippet of information, really. But from Velia, freely given, with that open, wound expression, it felt more profound August could adequately express.

“It’s a very nice thought, Vel.”

She smiled a little and blinked furiously, swiping at her eye with the ball of her hand. Just like that, the moment had ended. She went back to her machine, and he to his book.

It was a long while before either of them spoke again.

“August? Can I ask you something?”

He looked up from his novel. Vel kept her focus entirely on the material passing through her fingers, her face not giving a thing away.

“Sure. Shoot.”

“Do you still miss Jason?”

That was a tricky one. And one that August had given a lot of thought to.

“I don’t know. I missed him like a limb when I first got here. I mean, he was like my brother and I was _so_ _lonely._ But then you happened. You and Paul and Hamish and Tripta. It was like you said back then. The hurt changed. I was guilty that he’d mourn me and blame himself. And then when he died… I miss him like I miss my past. I miss the way things were and I miss the people we were. But I never knew him as an adult, so how can I know? Maybe we’d meet age eighteen and hate each other. Now I just feel-”

He stopped himself before he could walk down that dark train of thought again. Velia had spent the whole morning listening to Paul’s insecurities after having spent last night listening to Tripta’s rage. It wasn’t fair to tell her about his regrets and make her play shrink. She’d done enough of that to last a lifetime.

Augustus tried to tell her as much, but she shook her head. “Don’t stop on my account. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t care. Go on, now you just feel what?”

“I escaped death. He didn’t. He died thinking I’m dead when I’m not. What if e gets down to Elysium, and tries to find me, and can’t? And that’s how he finds out I’m alive. Jason will think I ran away, and I didn’t care enough explain.”

Velia looked struck for a second, but whether that was on his behalf or something else he couldn’t tell.

Velia dabbled in Necromancy- death magic. Maybe she thought he wanted her to help him talk to her somehow. It wasn’t too rare that they contacted the dead at camp. When they did, they weren’t like the Lares at Camp Jupiter, an extension of life, only lacking a physical form. They were normally lost souls, the mere memories of people, or the witches had to bridge an impossible gap between life and death. In short it was freaky stuff, usually done out of necessity, using talking boards and mirrors and runes painted on the floor. He knew Velia didn’t like it, if it was a spirit properly at rest. She said it was selfish to disturb them. He was inclined to agree. It wasn’t worth it. That wasn’t how he wanted to remember his friend.

That’s why he said, “But there’s nothing I can do now, is there?” to her, before she could say anything in response.

“No,” Velia answered, but he could tell that her mind was moving at a hundred miles a minute. Why, Augustus had no idea. “Nothing _you_ can do.”

PERCY

Thankfully, the day had been uneventful. His awkward prayer had clearly done some good, because the ocean was calm and the sky clear, letting the boat reach a speed that Mr Dare couldn’t catch up with even if he did realise that his _Beloved_ had been temporarily commandeered.

It did mean that the early stages of the quest were boring, which was a new experience for Percy. It was too cold to stand on deck for long, and they couldn’t use the tech on board without attracting monsters. They’d considered doing some light sparring, but then Annabeth had found some board games in a cupboard, still in their wrappers. Scrabble was out of the question since they were all dyslexic so a spelling game would be nothing short of torture. It was the same for hangman, and there were only so many games of tic-tac-toe you could play without going insane. That’s when they’d settled on monopoly. The game had lasted a solid four hours, two arguments and some creative threats and insults before he was bankrupted. Gods knew how, considering that thanks to sixteen years of Christmas days with his mom, he was the only one who understood the rules.

By then it was about nine thirty, and the intense gameplay combined with the exertion of using his powers on the downlow had Percy pooped. He’d turned in early, leaving the girls to finish playing as he fell asleep to the gentle jostling of the sea.

He’d hoped, stupidly, that now he’d set off on this quest, whatever was sending him these dreams would lighten up a little bit. Especially if this dream thing went both ways. Maybe he and Velia could see the better sides of each other before destiny shoved them together.

So, of course, the Dream showed him in one of his worst memories.

He had been sure he was moments before death, surrounded on all sides by the Arai, the curse spirits in Tartarus. Annabeth lay just out of his reach, blind and sure he’d abandoned her.

Like his dream about Akylis, somehow watching the experience unable to intervene, was worse than simply remembering it. He had a perfect view of Annabeth’s anguish as she grappled in the dark for anything she could hold onto. He saw Bob just standing there, watching the carnage; paralysed by the knowledge that it was Percy who’d washed away his memories and reduced him from a Titan lord, to Hades’ janitor.

Worst of all he saw himself, as vulnerable as an infant and writhing in pain. His body was shutting down around him thanks to the curses unleashed by the spirits, but his eyes were wide and alert as he saw the horror of the pit in its entirety.

_“Bob,” He croaked. ”I need you”_

_A hopeless plea. He could barely hear himself think. Why should Bob answer his call twice? The Titan knew the truth. Percy was no friend._

He remembered lying there, forced to think about everyone he’d ever hurt or left behind.

_“I’m sorry,” Percy murmured. “I’m sorry Bob, I should have been honest with you. Please…Forgive me. Protect Annabeth.”_

He watched himself rise to his feet, as his whole body had screamed in pain, struggling as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. At the time, it had honestly felt as difficult. The need to protect Annabeth was the only thing pushing Percy to keep fighting as any sense self-preservation had been replaced with deep self-loathing.

In that moment he’d been ready to die. If not for Annabeth, and if not for some last stubborn instinct to go out fighting he would have just laid down and let it happen. It couldn’t be any worse than what he was going through in that moment.

Seemingly from nowhere the Arai before him exploded into dust. When it cleared, he was no longer out in the open facing the curse spirits. Instead he was in Damasen’s hut.

Damasen. The good giant. Yet another of Percy’s failures. Another sacrifice made so that Percy could live to fight another day.

For a minute, taking in the warm glow of the fire and the relative cosiness of the drackon-hide hut, Percy had thought that this was his own memory. Damasen sat by his fire but perched on his other stool wasn’t Bob, or even Annabeth. It was Velia.

She looked nothing like the composed, sweet teenager he’d seen comforting her cousin and laughing with her friends in his other dreams. She was wrapped in a scrap of drackon skin like a shawl and held a bowl of stew as big as a hubcap. Her face was gaunt making her black eyes look huge, like a feral animal’s, and her hair, clung to her clammy face in dirty strings. It was weird. She always looked a little familiar to him, even if he couldn’t place it. Here though? When she looked like death warmed up? That sense of recognition was stronger than ever and yet he still couldn’t place it. Perhaps it was just that he saw his own experiences reflected in her.

“That’s quite a story.” Damasen said, after some deliberation.

A flicker of a smile flitted across her face. “It is. You’re the only one I’ve ever told it to. Not many know it.”

If it was her life story she’d just told, then Percy wished that the memory had started sooner, if only so he could have clue as to who Velia was.

“Indeed?” Where before Damasen had seemed almost impressed, his expression turned suspicious. “Why? Why after a life of lies would you tell _me_ your tale without censure? Did you hope your honesty would endear me to you? Persuade me where the other one failed?”

He said it like an accusation, and Percy was angry for a second on Annabeth’s behalf. Yes, they’d wanted his help, but she’d also genuinely believed that he could overcome his fate. Velia, though, if anything seemed amused.

“If Annabeth and the fate of the world couldn’t convince you, how could I? No, consider this my last confession. I might as well die an honest woman.”

He looked taken aback at how blasé she was about dying, and honestly so was Percy. Damasens interest had clearly been piqued. Percy couldn’t tell if she’d genuinely given up or if she was pulling the most intricate bluff he’d ever seen.

“How could you decide so easily to die?”

“I already made that decision. I made it as soon as I fell. I never thought I’d survive this.”

“Then why jump in the first place? The vow you made? Some misguided search for absolution?”

“Maybe in part. A life for a life is the standard for old magic, isn’t it? But it’s more than that. Bigger.”

Percy shuddered when she mentioned exchanging lives. It reminded him of Nico in the labyrinth, wanting to kill Daedalus to bring back his sister. What oath could Velia possibly have made that warranted this sacrifice?

“Then enlighten me. Why?”

That question seemed to really bother Damasen, and himself too. But Velia looked completely _un_ bothered, especially for someone who’d willingly walked into a death sentence.

“Because if they fail, and the Doors aren’t closed then I’ll die. Maybe not today, maybe not for a while, but me and everything I love will be reduced to nothing. But if they succeed, even if I die in the process, they have a chance. My friends, my family get another chance, a little more time. The sun will rise, the tides will move, the leaves will change, and the stars will shine even if I’m not there to see them.”

To Percy that sounded like a noble sacrifice, which made him feel all the worse. He had to keep reminding himself that Velia had been at Jason’s funeral. She had to have survived this somehow. Damasen, who’d been so paralysed by his fear of the unknown, and his belief in his unescapable fate, seemed moved.

“And you don’t fear death?”

Velia outright laughed at that, but through her weakened body it sounded more like a croak.

“Of course, I fear death. Only fools and the self-righteous don’t, and I’m neither. I see things for what they are. I should have died years ago, and yet I’ve been given all this extra time. For three years now, I’ve outrun my fate. I don’t want to go. But if my life has to end then it’ll be on my own terms, having done something good with it.”

“And so you quit the world; any good things you did, and all that you loved.”

“No. Not entirely. When my body dies, those parts of me will still be there, like my truth will be here with you. The best of me left behind, scattered like stars. I like that idea.”

For a moment, Percy’s heart broke for her. She and the giant looked at one another, long and hard, in silent assessment.

It was in that moment of quiet that Percy realised what the two memories had in common, beyond them both being in Tartarus. Him facing the curse spirits, and Velia, the liar telling her honest story, had forced them both to reckon with the worst parts of themselves. They’d both been prepared to die. And yet…

As if it read his thoughts the dream began to morph into something else, like wax melting and hardening again. He saw Damasen riding on the Drackon’s back, to make his and Bob’s final stand.

At the time, Percy hadn’t seen the small figure riding behind him clinging to, and half buried in his hair. Velia.

Damasen unleashed a battle Cry as he struck his father, the personification of Tartarus, nicking him just beneath his knee. Liquid, like quicksilver, leaked out of his indigo skin. Tartarus tried to strike back, but Damasen rolled of the Drackons back and the creature launched himself higher up the Primordial’s body. The giant and Velia, who by some miracle of reflexes had survived the fall, rose to their feet.

She flexed her hands, and it was as though the atmosphere around them blurred, like she was manipulating the mist or something like it. She turned to face Damasen.

“It’s been an honour.”

The giant gave her a smile, and a long last look.

“It has. Now go to the doors.”

Velia started to move, “To guard the button, right.”

“No.” Damesan stopped her with a hand as big as a car door. “Pass through them. Leave this place.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Go and _live_ -”

“ _No!_ You don’t deserve this. _I_ don’t deserve this. I can’t just _leave_ you.” Velia’s eyes were welling with tears.

The giant shook his head, his grip tightening around his spear.

“But we do. We both deserve to defy our fates. Me by fighting, and you by living.

He removed one of the swamp-flowers from his rust-coloured hair and placed it in her hands. Fat, silent tears ran down her face. “And besides, you aren’t leaving me. Not completely. What was it you said, the pieces of you scattered like stars? Well a piece of me is left with you now. Now take it, and _go._ ”

“It’s been an honour.” Velia said again. They shared one last, long, look before they turned away; Damasen to fight his father, and Velia to run to the doors of death.

Percy didn’t know how she made it through the writhing mass of monsters to reach the doors. They were all so preoccupied with getting to himself and Annabeth that she could dart and weave through. Once or twice she seemed to fade away entirely, only to reappear a few feet away. Shadow travel maybe? Whatever she was doing, she did it as easy as breathing. Her tears still fell, but her jaw was set in determination. When she got to the Doors, Percy and Annabeth were saying their goodbyes to Bob.

“ _Twelve minutes,” Said the Titan. “I can give you that.”_

“ _Percy…Hold the doors”_ As he held them, Annabeth jumped and threw her arms around Bob. As she did, Percy had spent the time committing the Titan’s face to memory. His stubble, and his wild hair, The smile lines around his kind, silver eyes. The last Percy would ever see of him. “ _Monsters are eternal. We will remember you and Damasen as heroes, as the best titan and the best giant. We’ll tell our children. We’ll keep the story alive. Someday, you will regenerate.”_

The gap that Annabeth left when she leaned forwards to embrace Bob, let Velia clamber into the elevator. But _no._ That couldn’t be right. She passed right through Percy’s line of vision, but he hadn’t seen this. He would have remembered.

_“That is good. Until then, my friends, tell the sun and the stars hello for me.”_

“The stars.” Velia repeated, her voice half lost in her sob that no one heard.

The doors closed. Annabeth and Percy stood with their backs to them, putting all their weight on keeping them closed. Velia crumpled on the elevator floor, her resolve from moments before crumbled away. She looked up at Percy and wept. Percy looked _right at her_ and didn’t see anything at all.

He woke up alone. His face wet with tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an absolute nightmare to write, so I hope it came out okay! this fic is like, 5% action and 95% talking about feelings, and that's okay. We learn more about Velia, though, which is always fun!  
> As always feedback means the world, please, if you've made it this far, leave a Kudos, or a comment- tell me what you liked and what you didn't  
> Have a lovely weel :-)


	11. Three of Pentacles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teamwork, Effort, Pooling Energy  
> Percy and the gang face the first challenge on their quest, Meanwhile August's inner peace is broken when Velia puts a new option in front of him

**THREE OF PENTACLES**

_Teamwork, Effort, Pooling Energy_

PERCY

When Percy woke up the boat wasn’t moving. Or, if it was, it wasn’t moving through water. He wiped the tear tracks off his cheeks and grabbed his shoes and his jacket, checking riptide was still in the pocket. Thalia was already in the corridor looking just as dishevelled, with one arm still hanging out of her silver parka. That meant Annabeth must be on watch.

“Why did we stop?”

“No idea.”

They made their way to the bridge, where Annabeth stood at the window, looking as tired and confused as Percy felt.

“I swear, it just appeared. For a moment there was nothing but water ‘till suddenly-“She ran her hands through her hair, before gesturing to the window as if to say _see for yourself._

The boat had run aground.

When he tried to reach out and feel the sea the call of the water felt different, muffled from all sides, but somehow they were still moving forwards. They climbed onto deck for a better look. Annabeth was right; she hadn’t steered them into a shoreline. Oh no. The _Beloved,_ somehow, was standing in the middle of the island, atop a hill, with dry land spanning at least 500 feet in every direction.

“What the…”

Annabeth turned slowly on the spot, taking it all in. “I don’t know. I’m trying to think of a myth or a story or something but nothing’s coming to mind.”

“Okay.” Thalia nodded, leaning over the railings. “Then how do we move?”

After a little deliberation they decided that Percy and Annabeth would investigate the island while Thalia stayed with the ship, since she was the weakest swimmer should anything go too wrong.

There wasn’t much to the island. The whole surface was made up of the same grey rock. It lay in slabs the size of garage doors, which fit together like mosaic stones. One or two had rough chunks missing, like they’d been attacked with a hatchet or a hammer. Others had deep scorch marks, and clear fire damage, like a bonfire had gotten out of control before it had been put out. All of them were scattered with what Percy assumed were stones and moss, until he leaned down to have a closer look and realised that they were barnacles and algae. He told Annabeth, who was lying on her stomach, her arm just thin enough to fit between the stones where his couldn’t.

“Okay, so does that mean the Island is under the sea, usually? It just surfaces sometimes, and we were unlucky enough to be picked up by it. Can we just wait for it to sink again?”

Percy had just been about to suggest that. He’d been thinking that he could summon a wave and push the boat off of the island again, until he walked up to get a better look at the _Beloved_. One of the fins on the bottom of the boat was lodged in between the stones, in one of the places where they’d been damaged. The crevice had been widened into rough, jagged hole which meant the boat would have to be lifted at an angle to get out. If the island simply dropped back into the ocean, they would be dragged down with it. This was not shaping up to be Percy’s day.

“Just our luck.” Annabeth agreed. “Huh. Weird.”

“Which part?”

“Oh, all of it. But I meant that here, between the stones, when you reach further down. It’s warm.”

Percy leaned down to imitate her where the rock was a little wider. She was right. He remembered that the ground at Mt. St Helens had been warm underfoot before he’d blown it up. Fantastic. The magic island was a magic _volcano_ island.

They set off down the hill, towards the only real landmark that they could see. On one side the shoreline was raised slightly, like the lip of a cave. When they got to it, they could see bubbles breaking the ocean’s surface a way away from the edge of the island. If it was a cave, Annabeth reckoned, that might be something inside it. It was as good a start as any, he agreed, bracing himself to jump in the water to check it out. He Paused, one leg suspended over the water.

“If I’m not back in thirty minutes-“

“Go back to Thalia and contact the coast guard. Got it.” She dropped a kiss on his cheek. “It was nice knowing you.”

Percy laughed, giving her a mock salute as he jumped into the ocean.

He didn’t have to sink far, until he came to something, the side of the island like a limb. Percy swam alongside the trunk until he came to a head. Not a limb- a neck. The monster wasn’t hiding inside the island, it was the island. They were stuck on the back of a giant sea turtle.

He swam forwards and down until he was suspended right in front of a wizened face. The creature looked incredibly old and withered, like an apple left in the sun. Peaking out of the creases were a set of little black eyes… Well, little in comparison to the rest of the turtle. In comparison to Percy, each of the eyes was the side of his head. They were sharp, locking in on Percy straight away.

“Hi.”

The Turtle reared back a little in surprise.

“Hello. You do not drown.”

“Uh, No, I don’t, as a rule. I’m Percy.”

But the creature just nodded and seemed to settle.

“That’s nice. Art thou a God, Percy? Only, mortals don’t tend to last so long.” Okay, this was a weird conversation but, at least he hadn’t been eaten yet.

“A demigod. I’m the son of Poseidon.”

“Poseidon,” The beast echoed back. “The name is familiar, still I forget. Forgive me. I’ve lived long. Where is he worshiped?”

“Uh,” Okay, this was new for Percy. “Uh, He’s in America now but he came from Greece. In the Mediterranean.”

“Ah. The Mediterranean. I don’t like the Mediterranean. Too many sailors. I haven’t been there in some time.”

“Right. Do you not, uh, like sailors?”

That wasn’t ideal if he didn’t. The turtle closed his eyes and did something that Percy decided nodding.

“I do not. They board, they break, they take. I understand the actions of desperate men. They often aren’t to blame for their own struggles, and they know not my nature. But then they try to build. They light fires. That I cannot allow. I am generous, but not to the point of self-flagellation.”

“Okay. And when they light fire you…?”

“I put them out.”

The turtles voice had a dark edge to it. Percy’s mind went to the damaged parts of the turtle’s shell. He could understand him being anxious of sailors when they’d done that to him. The way the creature communicated was odd. Kind of old-fashioned. It reminded him of how Zoe Nightshade had dropped _thee_ s and _thou_ s into conversation. Percy got the impression he was talking to something older than he could fathom.

“And how do you do that, uh, I’m sorry, what can I call you?”

“I had a name among my own kind, but its been so long…the mortals called me Aspidochelone. And to put them out I descended. Often I pulled them with me.”

Percy recoiled, imagining old timey sailors, thinking they’d found a safe harbour only to be drowned anyway. But then he imagined what Grover would say. These guys didn’t just seek a refuge, they damaged it. If men felt entitled to destroy the wild, Was the wild not entitled to fight back?

The Turtle must have sensed Percy’s apprehension. Because he continued.

“Do not think ill of me young one. I did not relish it, nor make my decision lightly. Did you realise I once carried life? Nothing grand, but plants, some small creatures. Birds. I liked birds. They would rest on my head, make my journey less lonesome. The sailors would cut, and hunt. But when I would dive? The soils would wash away, become waterlogged. I would have to wait decades to recover what I lost. “

The Aspidochelone closed his eyes, a deep sense of sadness radiating from him.

“Either I let those soldiers destroy it, and myself along with it, or I did so myself. I have lived _long_ and there are none left like me. There are so many sailors nowadays that I spend most of my time submerged now. I must go deeper to hunt. Nothing can regrow. I am alone.”

He thought of stories about whaling ships, and an article Grover had shown him about the impact of cruise ships. Well, Percy thought, now was as good a time as any to start his pitch.

“I am very sorry, Mr Aspidochelone. I’m not a sailor, but I am here with a ship. I promise we won’t do anything to harm you. We didn’t mean to board your island, but, uh, we seem to be stuck.”

The monster seemed angered but thankfully, he was patient. He let Percy explained to him how the boat was stuck thanks to the damage done to the turtle years before, and how they really needed to get moving, given their quest. By the end of his tale, if a turtle could cry Percy thought the Aspidochelone would have.

“You understand, how long I have been in the deeps. It is dark. Cold. I missed the sun, the light. This part of sea doesn’t tend to be so busy. Not in the wintertime. I will have to hunt soon, but I will give you a day. Lest you harm me I will have until the sun sets.”

Percy was reminded of his dream the night before. _Tell the sun and stars Hello._ He could understand the creatures grief. How come the kind monsters were made to suffer?

This meant that had a day to solve an impossible problem, or find alternative transport, otherwise the creature would drown them all. Great. Cool. He had more questions but didn’t have the time to ask them. He thanked the Aspidochelone and resurfaced.

Annabeth was leaning over the edge of the lip of the shell. She looked worried, fidgeting with her camp necklace. Or at least she did until Percy splashed her as he breached the surface. Spluttering, she wiped the water off her face.

“Ugh, thanks seaweed brain.” She pulled herself to her feet and flicked away the wet hair now plastered to her forehead. “You were down there, like, forty minutes. I was almost worried.”

“Almost?”

“Almost. I’m guessing you found something interesting then?”

“Oh yeah.”

“And Helpful?”

In reply, Percy just winced.

“Brilliant.”

\---

Normally Percy prided himself thinking of ridiculous plans on the spot. Considering how often he was left flying by the seat of his pants, the fact he wasn’t dead yet was a testament to how good he was.

But right now? With a whole day to think it through, he still had nothing.

They agreed that just hacking their way out of the shell wasn’t the answer. Even if it weren’t _super cruel_ , if they started the Turtle would just Dive, dragging them all down with them. If they couldn’t think of anything, it wasn’t even as though Percy could summon a hippocampus or something to carry them to safety. It was the Atlantic in December- they’d have hypothermia before they got anywhere close to a coastline.

Just pushing the water wouldn’t be enough to pull them apart, or at least not in any way that Percy could use it. Eventually, though, It was Annabeth who thought of something that might work.

“What if we let him dive and you two used your powers to resist somehow? At the right angle, with enough force pushing on either direction we might be able to get loose”

Percy thought about it and let himself feel hopeful for the first time in hours. “It could work! With enough force from the water and enough air pressure, yeah, it could.”

They both turned to look at Thalia then who, lying on the floor next to the couch that they were on.

“Thalia? What do you think?”

“I don’t know.” She said, her gaze not leaving the ceiling.

“Well, have you tried before?” Percy had seen Thalia using her lightning powers a lot, and felt them, but he’d never seen her using the wind like Jason had. Maybe she couldn’t, like Nico couldn’t attract diamonds and not all children of Aphrodite could charm speak.

“Well yeah, I tried, once or twice with Jason.” She shut her eyes as she spoke as if she was savouring the memory.

“And?” Percy prompted. Thalia grimaced.

“I could do it, but it didn’t come naturally. Like, I summoned a breeze and it felt like I’d sprinted a mile. And _now_ I don’t-“

She stopped short, as if she’d said too much.

“Not what?” Annabeth leaned over to look her in the eyes, taking her hand. She’d been worried about Thalia when they’d boarded yesterday. So was Percy, although more because of Reyna’s warning than anything she’d said or done.

“Nothing. I’m just a little out of practice.”

She clenched her free fist.

“How come?” Annabeth looked worried, and a little annoyed that Thalia was brushing her off.

“ _Nothing,_ I just haven’t used them in a while.”

“Well that shouldn’t mean that they won’t work now. Why don’t -“

“Because nothing good ever comes of them. Besides. Some of us want our power to be our own _._ ”

She cut him off, her voice a snarl, lifting her head up to look at him. Clearly, she was accusing him of something, but he couldn’t understand what or why. Even if he could control the ocean (and it was a good thing that he could, given the journey that they were on right now), even if he’d inherited them from his dad they were _his powers._ And even then, he was a damned good swordsman. His hand itched to reach for Riptide and remind her, as their eyes were locked together in a silent standoff.

It lasted until he heard the tell-tale crackle of electricity in her fingers. When Annabeth called out, and reached to Thalia, Percy almost missed it. But when the electricity came, Thalia flinched. For a split second there, she’d looked afraid of it. That had been enough to distract Percy from his anger.

He didn’t bring attention to it. As soon as Annabeth laid her hands on her shoulders, Thalia got her composure back. She closed her eyes and slumped forwards, her rage gone as soon as it had appeared.

“I’m sorry. Just…I’m sorry.”

She let Annabeth pull her into a hug, stroking her hair and muttering words of comfort all the while. Her tiara had been knocked askew in the process. Percy untangled it from her hair as gently as he could without pulling and placed it on the table. He laid a tentative hand on her back, feeling like an intruder to whatever she was feeling, that he didn’t understand.

“It’s fine.” Percy said, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. He really didn’t have another plan. “We don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. I can do it on my own, or we’ll think of something else. We still have hours when- “

“No.” She sat herself up, keeping one arm around Annabeth. “No. I decided to come with you. I’ll try.”

AUGUSTUS

The nights were getting long now, and the temperature had been hovering around zero for days. People were saying there’d be snow soon. Johnny Branch said it because of a magic amulet that his Grandma had carved for him, which had a 66% Accuracy rate. Nora Spiegel had agreed because she specialised in weather magic and said she could feel it in her toes. August agreed because he’d listened to the weather report on his wind-up radio that morning.

Everyone had groaned and laughed at that. August’s scepticism of the supernatural, unless it was in the obvious, immortal way, was well known about camp. He was sitting with the twenty or so high school and college aged witches who spent at least some of the holidays at camp, at the bottom of the campfire pit. It was nice. he and Hamish were close enough to the fire that he could ignore the biting cold and he was happy to soak up the atmosphere, feeling at peace with himself and the world at large.

Paul had come back earlier that afternoon, finally looking like himself again, and was sat at the front with his guitar, taking requests. That’s why the music was such a mixed bag, with some new and some old, solos, duets and things they all joined in with. _This Land is Your Land, Raggle Taggle Gypies_ , and _Toss a Coin to Your Witcher_ were all particularly popular.

It was all going smoothly until, after a rousing rendition of Africa, someone in the maintenance team called for Tripta to sing something.

She’d been sitting on the opposite side of the fire to Paul, with Velia and the rest of their coven. She had a good voice, deep and powerful. She and Paul had first made friends by doing youth-theatre at age eleven. The two of them still hadn’t spoken since that night. All evening they’d been shooting looks at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

Tripta laughed and agreed, holding out her hands with a flourish and calling for requests in an imitation of Paul a few hours ago when they’d started. Whether it was in good fun or not was anyone’s guess.

Before she could settle on a suggestion Paul began to play. It was a song that they all knew well, despite it being at least three hundred years old.

She’d looked had mad, for a moment, that Paul was butting in when he’d not spoken to her all night. Or at least she did until she recognised the tune. Then, she looked at him with an eyebrow quirked up. Her mouth was still pursed, but her interest had been raised. Augustus knew he wasn’t observant, but he knew them both well enough follow the silent dance between the two of them.

 _“I’m sorry.”_ Paul mouthed, from across the fire.

She bit her lip and nodded, her signature smirk creeping onto her face as she stood up and started to sing, straight to him.

“ _A master of music, Came with an intent,_

_to teach me a lesson on my instrument._

_I thanked him for nothing, and bid him be gone,_

_For my little fiddle, should not be played on.”_

When she lifted her arms, calling for everyone else sing the chorus with her, they did. Even August. Even Paul.

_“My thing is my own and I keep it so still, though other young lasses may do as they will.”_

Even if the lyrics were a little, uh, bawdy the song was about more than that. It was about autonomy and self-assurance. And tonight, from Paul, it was an apology, for a little bit of what he’d said the night before.

After that first verse, the song went through all sorts of men who’d made a move and been found lacking. Some more girls got up to joined in, and by the time the song finished there were eight of them. They acted out the ridiculous, old-fashioned lyrics, both backing up Tripta’s singing with their own and interrupting it with their laughter. When they finally got to the end, they got a rowdy round of applause. Trip whispered something in Velia’s ear, and kissed her cheek, before going to sit next to Paul.

For the first time in two days, or maybe since Paul had visited her at University that weekend, the two of them sat and talked.

“Fucking finally.” Hamish muttered to August making him snort with laughter.

Tripta and Paul looked up then, sensing that they were being watched. While August immediately averted his gaze and tried to pretend that he wasn’t trying to read lips. Hamish, meanwhile gave them both a big thumbs up, and an exaggerated grin. Almost in Perfect sync, the couple made matching rude hand gestures before going back to their conversation. Hamish took it in stride, laughing again, as he got up to give Velia a hand up the steps to come sit with them.

“Thanks, Hamish.”

It’s no bother. Besides, I was getting up anyway to go get a snack. August, d’you want anything while I’m up there?”

“Nah, thanks.”

“’S’Alright. And Velia wants a cup of tea.”

Vel gave him a light swat on his arm as she sat down next to August.

“Hey! Don’t assume!” She said but there was no bite in her voice. They all knew she drank more tea than water most days. “But yes, please, if you’re going. My mug’s- “

“On the hook by the sink. I remembered. August you sure you don’t want one?”

“Well if you’re making one already…”

Hamish scoffed. “Coffee, Decaff, I know the drill. Honestly. You’re as bad as each other.” He said with a good humour. It was very like Hamish, to remember little details like what people liked to drink and when. He went bounding up the steps to the Common Room.

That left Velia and August slumped together on the steps. Her eyes were pointed towards the fire, and she was humming quietly along to the music, but August didn’t really know how much how she was taking in. All day Velia had seemed a little unfocused, with that far off look in her eyes. He’d asked her if it was because of their discussion last night and tried to apologise for unloading on her, but she’d said no, insisting that she’d just slept badly the night before. Now he knew that she had nightmares sometimes, and since she’d been Yawning all day, he’d believed her.

After a little while spent in comfortable silence she’d angled her head back to look at him.

“August?”

“Velia?”

“Could I ask you a question? In Purely Hypothetical terms, that is.”

“Purely Hypothetically, of course you could.”

 _Purely hypotheticaly_ was a sort of running joke between the two of them. When they talked about charms and curses and all the other stuff that August didn’t quite believe in, they’d say Purely Hypothetically before every sentence so that Velia could discuss them without August having to admit that they existed.

“Okay, so I know you said last night about not wanting to use any witch stuff to try and talk to Jason-“

He pulled away from her then, scrutinising her. “I thought you said that your weird mood was nothing to do with us talking last night?”

Velia furrowed her eyebrows so hard that they almost met in the middle. “ _Weird_ mood?” She took a slow, deliberate breath and clasped her hands together so that she couldn’t gesture with them, like she always did when she was trying to get a hold of herself. When she opened them again, that flash of irritation was gone. “Sorry. I’ve had some stuff on my mind. But that really is nothing to do with this. But I did get to thinking about what you said. What you were worrying about.”

He nodded, but he was still apprehensive. This conversation felt at odds with the happy scene around them. He felt a little colder, and the laughing and music was starting to get a little more subdued.

“Well, hypothetically, what if there was another way? One that we don’t use much, and I didn’t think would work until recently,” She continued. “Where you could talk to him, where he’s completely himself, but there was no risk of his spirit getting stuck or corrupted. Like one of the Larry’s from Camp Jupiter- “

“Lares.”

“Those. To let you explain to him, and you both to say goodbye. Would you want to do it?”

She beat her clasped hands on her lap, like she was desperate to fidget. It was weird. She was normally so collected and focused. But even by her own admission Velia had been a little uneasy this past week or so. Any other person, he’d have said it was good that they were finally opening up, but Velia seemed so _tired_ and anxious by it that he wasn’t so sure.

But if what was she was saying was true…

“Purely Hypothetically?” He tried to put a teasing tone in his voice, to put her at ease. It fell flat. Still, she humoured him with a twitch of a smile.

“Of course.”

“Then, Hypothetically, I’d need to think about it.”

Velia took his hand and gave it a tight squeeze. “Of course.”

Hamish reappeared then, wielding two steaming mugs.

“Here yous go. Did I miss anything?”

August floundered a bit then, he had too many questions and he didn’t want to discuss communing with his dead friend until he worked out how he felt about it. Luckily, he didn’t have to.

“Pure Hypothetical’s.” Velia told him, smiling. Hamish knew the joke and didn’t ask for more details, although whether that was because he believed it was nothing or guessed that they didn’t want to talk about it, August didn’t know. He sat on the step behind them so that Vel could lean back against his legs, giving Augusts shoulder a rest. He thanked Hamish and took a long sip of his coffee. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that they had their hands resting on top of each other’s, on Hamish’s knee.

Just when he thought he had everything figured out, this break kept throwing him new curveballs. He had a lot to think about.

People were starting to wander off to bed, and the campfire was dwindling. The atmosphere had turned a little sleepier, and Mary Cooper had been singing a song he didn’t know. Velia did though, as she softly joined in harmony.

_While the moon does shine clear,_

_I will mourn my sweet dear_

_Over mountains, clear fountains_

_Where no one would hear_

_While the moon does shine clear_

_And the river does flow_

_The Fair maid of the morning_

_Has many a foe._

PERCY

“Well, Here goes nothing.”

Percy had already been to clear the plan with the Aspidochelone, who’d been surprisingly accommodating towards his unexpected guests. While Annabeth had figured out what their angle of exit had to be, to get free without minimal damage to him or the _Beloved_ , he and Thalia had been practicing their powers, and deciding on a strategy.

Thalia was right when she’d said that her power with wind was weaker than her lighting. He’d tried to be encouraging, seeing the sheen of sweat on her forehead, and how her teeth clenched with the effort, but he was more than a little worried that it wouldn’t be enough.

They all stood there shoulder to shoulder, as the sun started to go down. The sunset was bright, reflecting and refracting off the water, making the sea glitter orange, and pink and Purple like stained glass. It was beautiful, reaching as far as the eye could see. He could understand why the Aspidochelone, majestic and lonely, was willing to risk being seen or hunted to see it.

He saw splashing from the top end of the island where the turtle’s head was. It was time.

The girls stayed on the boat- Thalia on the deck and Annabeth below, so she could start using the boat’s engine once they were free. Meanwhile he leapt over the side, onto the turtles back.

Slowly, like they’d agreed with the Aspidochelone, the island started to sink, the water seeping over it’s edge. As the water started to rise and rise, Percy took control, letting it’s buoyancy push against the boat, working it like a wedge between the bottom of the boat and the shell. It was working- he realised as he heard the boat shift and groan- but there was only so much Percy could do on his own.

He looked up to the deck of the boat where Thalia stood, her hands clenched at her sides and her mouth set in a hard line. He could sort of feel the air pressure move, resisting the pulling against the push of the water. It wasn’t smooth though. It shifted like it were being jerked up by a string.

As they worked Thalia’s eyes were furrowed shut. Storm clouds had rolled in, like they always did when Thalia was stressed or angry. He remembered when she’d fought Luke on Mount Atlas, the sky had almost been black with storm clouds and when the battle was over, they’d faded as quickly as they’d appeared.

It was all going well, and Percy had started to think that it might go off without a hitch when the thunder started. He’d expected it as soon as the clouds rolled in, since they were playing with air pressure. But for some reason Thalia flinched.

He tried to write it off as her being startled, since she’d been so in the zone. But then, for a second, her hold on the atmosphere weakened and the _Beloved_ made a sudden lurch downwards. Percy just about managed to hold it in place, until Thalia regained control. Then it started to move again, and Percy felt the ship slowly start to grind out of the shell. The water reached his neck now, lifting him off his feet.

Or it did until the Thunder struck again. Again, Thalia’s grip weakened, the boat sliding back into the crevis a little. Her hold was weaker now, shaky. It was like instead of lifting the boat, she could only keep it from being dragged back down. It was like a cycle- as Thalia got more and more agitated the thunder got more and more intense and the winds picked up around them.

He tried desperately to figure out what was wrong without losing his own hold. Maybe she was getting tired from overstretching herself or getting frustrated and loosing focus. But then why were her eyes were open wide, frantically looking around at the growing storm.

But why would she be afraid of her own powers-? Then again, he’d been afraid to drown once, in Alaska. He tried to think it through logically, without losing his grip on the water. This was new. But then she’d been afraid of the little burst of electricity she’d made that morning. What could make her afraid?

Jason? He’d died using his powers, trying to give them a little more time. They hadn’t saved him. Nor had they saved her, that night on Half-Blood Hill. Nothing good comes from them, that’s what Thalia she’d said. And then when she’d mentioned them not being her own. If she doubted her control from the get-go, no wonder she was struggling.

The boat gave another dangerous lurch. It was too late for that now.

He screamed her name, praying that his voice would carry through the howling winds. Somehow she heard, turning to looking at him with wide eyes, twitching from the strain.

“THEY’RE YOURS!”

 _What?_ He could see her mouth back, her eyes wide, as the boat shuddered and ground again.

“THIS! THE WIND, THE STORM, ALL OF THIS. IT’s YOUR POWER, YOUR FEELINGS THAT FUEL IT. USE IT. CHANNEL IT!”

As he said the last part, he saw Luke’s face looking down at him as a Twelve-year-old and telling him to grief into anger, let it fuel him. To be fair, Thalia did look mad when he said that, but that was probably because Percy was trying to tell her what to do and was breaking her concentration. But then the boat took its biggest jerk yet, careening to an odd angle. Thalia barely managed to keep on her Feet, and Percy was pulled under the water for a minute. Miraculously they managed to keep their grip on the _Beloved._

Once she regained her footing, it was like a switch flipped inside her. Percy didn’t know how much his words had to do with it but she lifted one arm into the air, and kept the other at her side, her hand flexing. She turned her head to the sky and _yelled._ The sound was guttural, and powerful and _raw._

The Boat pushed up. It ripped free from the turtle’s shell, and Percy went careening backwards. He gave up control of his own body, instead keeping all his focus on keeping the boat upright through the stream of bubbles being blasted into his face.

He was pushed backwards, right into the Aspidochelone’s wrinkled, withered neck.

“Sorry! And Thankyou for your help. Good luck on your travels.”

The Turtle moved round to face him, assessing him one last time with his impossibly old eyes. Who knew the next time the Aspidochelone would have company?

“The same to you young one.” His voice rumbled. “Now go rejoin your companions.”

Percy just floated there for a second, watching the beast descend into the deep and the darkness, before he pushed himself to the surface. From the surface, the Beloved stood as blindingly white and impressive as ever, like the past day had never happened.

He propelled himself onboard, grinning. At the same time, Annabeth emerged from the bridge through a side door. She looked just as impressed as he felt. He took her hand and they dashed onto the main deck, as praise rolled off his tongue.

“Thalia you were amazing! I mean, Annabeth, we couldn’t have done it without you but Thals? Oh my gods it was-“

He stopped short when he saw Thalia. Her legs were shaking with exertion and she was staggering a little. Her face was clammy and deathly pale. She tried a weak step and collapsed. Of course she did. That morning she’d barely been over to blow over the monopoly board and now she’d done all that.

Percy and Annabeth ran over to her, picking her up and lifting her between them. It was cold out here. They’d had to get her indoors.

“You’re right.” Thalia’s words slurred, as they set her down on the bed.

“Right about what?” Percy’s mind went to the things he’d shouted to her before her powers surged. Humility was a weird look on Thalia.

“I was pretty amazing.” Nope. There she was. A sleepy smile spread across her face before her eyes fluttered shut and her head lolled back.

“Yeah.” He shared an amused look with Annabeth as she drew the comforter up around her neck, having just taken off her shoes.

“Yeah you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank god that's over! I had a lot of writers block with this chapter but I think it turned out okay.Unfortunately I've had to reupload this because it hasn't gone through on the archive properly, hence the days delay!   
> If you remember, when August got his tarot cards read the Three of Pentacles was said to represent his past with Bagshaw and Jason, so the chapter title was an 'its all coming together' moment. And Oof Velia- if you have any theories about it i'd love to hear em'.  
> The songs that the witches sing are all real english folksongs from around the 18th C and beyond and coincidentally both were used in the TV series Harlots- if you want to give them a listen:  
> My thing is my own-  
> Pro Folky version: https://youtu.be/Jerh8oA_Zl0  
> Now I'm going to take a little hiatus with this, because this chapter really took it out of me and I've got a lot on this week, plus I really want to go over and edit the earlier chapters (nothing major, just some spelling and grammer stuff)  
> Thankyou so much for making it this far, and have a lovely two weeks! <3


	12. Seven of Cups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which all our characters have to think about just what it is that they really want

**SEVEN OF CUPS**

_Choices, Searching for Purpose, Indecision_

PERCY

Once Thalia was safely asleep, Percy and Annabeth had curled up together on the other bed as he talked through his latest dream with her. He'd told her what he’d seen in as little detail as he could get away with, since Tartarus wasn’t a place worth dwelling on and he knew hearing about Damesen would hurt her. Besides, what had rattled him the most about the dream hadn’t been that Damesen had met Velia. It was that Percy hadn’t, even though she’d been standing _right there_.

“Magic?” had been the only explanation Annabeth could think of. “You said she could do all kinds of other stuff so she’s obviously some kind of a sorceress.”

Percy guessed she was right, but Augustus’ words to Bagshaw in his first dream kept nagging at him.

_You can’t see me._

If there was magic involved it didn’t seem like it was within their control, and it couldn't apply to all of them. What about Lee? Or Ethan? Or the old guardian, Anathema Smart.

“So-“ Annabeth broke him from his thoughts, “-when Velia was talking to Damesen, you thought she was telling the truth?”

He did. He had no real reason to, other than a guy feeling and an awareness of what it was like to have nothing left to lose, yet still he did.

“Okay. So, from what you’ve told me, she doesn’t like the Gods, doesn’t care one way or another about us, and _is_ a fan of the world not ending. Granted, it might be hard to get her help if that’s what we need, but not impossible. Like…remember when Apollo came knocking on your door as a mortal?What did you say to him again?”

“I just said _why_.” Percy saw the funny side of it now, even though at the time he'd been dead serious.

Annabeth smiled at that. “Yeah, that’s it. What if we knock on her door and she’s just like, _ugh, you two again_.”

That made him laugh. It would be just Percy's luck, to have gone on this perilous journey only to be received like a delivery guy with the wrong order. But then he thought about what it had felt like to find Lester at his door. Infuriating and a little scary he'd known as soon as Apollo had revealed himself that something dangerous would follow. If that was what they about to inflict on Velia, what kind of person did it make him?

He wanted keep talking about it, especially since he still had no idea what Velia's story was or what it had to do with him.

Before he could express all that, though, Annabeth had yawned. She’d been awake for over twenty-four hours now, and the adrenaline must have worn off because she looked exhausted. Yet here she was, figtinf to stay up so that she could listen to his problems. Percy didn’t think he could put into words how grateful he was that she was here for him, so he didn’t try. Instead he kissed her, fast and sweet, and told her to get some sleep. She was so tired that she didn’t argue with him. In less than five minutes Annabeth was snoring.

That left Percy to wander the ship, alone with his thoughts, until he settled down at the stern, leaning on the railings with his legs hanging over the edge of the ship and the bite of the sea spray keeping him alert. After what felt like hours, Thalia wandered out onto deck and joined him. She looked way better than when they’d put her to bed, but she still seemed tense. 

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

She got down to sit with him.

“How are-“ “I wanted to explain-“

They both started speaking and stopped short at once. He tried again.

“How do you feel?”

“My Body?” Thalia asked him, “Like I just wrestled a giant. The rest of me?” She slumped against the railing. “Who knows.”

“Yeah? I noticed you were a little…” She looked at him like she was daring him to finish that sentence. He’d never been one to back down from a challenge, but still Percy was careful as he continued. “Well, whatever it was, you I hope you feel better. You said it yourself; you were amazing back there. And you don’t have to say anything you don’t want to, but if you ever do, I’m right here.”

She turned to face him like she didn’t know whether she wanted to hug him or push him overboard. Eventually she deflated, pressing her head against the cold metal rail.

“I’m the one who destroyed Zeus’ fist.”

He had to give it to Thalia. She never stopped surprising him. That tidbit left him as winded as if she'd have punched him in the gut.

Looking up, he expected thunder or for lightning to strike them _._ Zeus wasn’t one to take any insult lightly, never mind his only living child talking about destroying something named in his honour. But there was nothing. 

“If- hang on, what? Why?”

“I was mad. Why else?” She gave a dry laugh, but there had been a joke Percy hadn’t understood it. She kept talking, looking out to the sea. “My mom told me once that I was born mad. Luke, he knew it. He knew me. So when did I get so complacent?”

Percy wasn’t sure what she meant by that but he understood that she wasn’t really asking him.

“They were right. It was what pushed me. Made me determined that I’d find a better way, or if I couldn’t I was going to _make_ one. And then I became a huntress. It was weird. I thought it was the immortality, maybe? But I was calm, for maybe the first time in my life. That was until…”

Her voice trailed away, but Percy knew what she was going to say. No one had to say Jason’s name for his absence hung heavy in the air.

“When they…when I found out, I didn’t feel anything at all. I told Artemis about it and she said it was a sign of growth. That, to be immortal was to move on, otherwise the grief would drive me insane.”

“Gods.” Percy could only imagine how he’d have reacted to being told that when he was bereaved.

“I know. And she’s one of the good ones. I almost believed her. I even comforted Apollo. Told him some spiel about heroes making hard choices. Which is bullshit when we didn’t sign up for this- to be born into prophesies, to suffer. But at the time, I couldn’t think. Couldn’t feel. And then we’d had the funeral.”

She didn’t have to give him any more detail then. Thalia had been her usual steely self until they’d brought out the empty shroud. Her composure had given way to an anguish that was impossible to ignore and she’d half-walked, half-ran into the woods before the shroud could even finish burning. He’d wanted to go after her but Nico had stopped him, saying something about grief needing time. Instead they’d seen out the service, letting Annabeth and Reyna follow her instead.

She kept talking, the words flowing out of her like a broken dam

“I was mad again and it was pretty awful, yeah, but it also felt like…coming back to life. Like I’d been sleepwalking since Jason died and now, I was fully awake. Or maybe it was longer than that. Maybe I was awake for the first time since I fought Luke on Mt. Atlas.”

Her hands were clenched so tight that her knuckles had turned white. 

“Whatever it was, I was alone in the woods, suddenly realising how much I’ve changed and wondering how many other pieces of myself that I’ve lost or left behind because it was easy and then-“

She splayed out her hands, in the universal gesture for _boom._ It made him smile in spite of himself, even if nothing else about this was remotely funny. The sun was rising, the light becoming just bright enough that he could see the tear tracks running down her face, but she was smiling too.

“After you…did that. Did he say anything? Do anything.”

She shook her head. “No. That was the weird part. Annabeth and Reyna found me, standing over the smoking pile of rocks. It was pretty clear what I’d done, so I made them promise not to tell anyone. You included. Sorry. I didn’t want anyone to worry. But I never heard anything from _him.”_

“Maybe it’s because I’ve worked up enough good will to get away with it, or because I’m under Artemis’ protection now. Maybe he just doesn’t care. Or he’s biding his time for the right chance to teach me a lesson. Whatever it is, we’ve been ignoring each other as usual, ever since.”

It clicked into place then, for Percy. “And you hadn’t used your powers since.”

Thalia sniffed. “Every time I thought about using them, I would think about who I got them from, and how they didn't save me when I was twelve and they couldn’t save Jason in the end. Plus, after the last time I used them I thought they could backfire on me, or that my Father had taken them away somehow. Either way, I didn’t want to find out. And then-”

“And then the giant turtle happened.”

“Yup. And then the giant turtle happened.”

Percy winced. “I’m so sorry. If I’d known that you were this torn up, I’d never have asked you to use your powers.”

Thalia shook her head, giving him a light kick on her shin. “Don’t apologize. I meant what I said yesterday. I chose to come on this quest. I wanted to- I needed the space to think. I like the hunt, but I don’t like outliving people. And that means I owe it to you guys to not let you drown if I can help it. Besides, you were right.“

“I’m sorry?” Percy put his hand to his ear, as if he was hard of hearing

“Shut up, Jackson. I’m not saying it again. But…yeah. My powers are _mine_. And so are my feelings.”

She got back to her feet and offered him a hand up.

“It’s good to be back.”

\---

All things considered; they had a pretty good day. That is, nothing had tried to kill them. Fighting off boredom was a welcome change. After their conversation that morning Thalia had seemed more relaxed, as if she were more comfortable in her skin now. Once Annabeth was up they’d all sat on the couch together, eating a breakfast of dried Frootloops straight out the box. They’d been smart enough to bring plenty of food, but it hadn’t occurred to any of them to bring bowls.

By now they were all sick to death of monopoly, so they’d had to get creative looking for ways to fill in the time. That’s how they ended up on the deck, playing a game which was like baseball, except the bases were only two yards apart and instead of hitting a ball with a bat they were punching a throw pillow. As dumb as it was, it had kept them entertained for the better part of the afternoon. They only stopped because two of the pillows gone overboard. Annabeth, having gotten really into softball in college, had a mean hit.

Even his dreams had decided to give him a break that night, showing him something blessedly neutral.

He saw Thalia, in that stretch of summer after she'd become human again. They were practicing in the training arena, while Annabeth and Grover watched from a bench. Thalia had always been fierce in battle; she’d had to be, to survive that long on her own. But she’d never had any formal training and she had to get used to having two legs again, tripping over her own feet often and tiring easily at the beginning.

It wasn’t just fighting that Thalia had needed to catch up on that summer. Annabeth and Grover had spent even more time going over all the things she’d missed over the last six years and trying to get her caught up enough to go to school with Annabeth in the fall.

Still, the combat training had helped Percy and Thalia to trust each other, even though their dads were who they are and Thalia didn’t trust easily– especially once they told her what had happened to Luke.

He watched the two of going over a sword technique. They’d been at it for hours now and Thalia still hadn’t been able to do the move. It had started to feel like they were hitting a wall, but giving up wasn’t in either of their natures.

Finally, after what could have been the hundredth try, Thalia managed to catch Riptide with the back of her sword, twisting his arm backwards until his weapon scattered onto the ground behind him and hers was cold against his neck.

On another day there might have been a tension there, but In that moment Percy and Thalia just grinned. He stumbled back in surprise when she threw her arms out and hugged him. Annabeth and Grover got up and ran over to Thalia, whooping and cheering. She was making progress.

They must have spent at least a dozen afternoons like that, that summer, sparring and talking and messing around. Still, this was one always stuck out to him. Maybe he was overly sentimental, but he’d always thought of that as the moment that he and Thalia had really become _friends._ That made it important to him.

He’d found that about his dreams- they weren’t the moments that were the most important in terms of the fate of the world, but they were the ones that were important to Percy. They always made him _feel._

When the image shifted, he saw Velia in her wheelchair with a bow in her hands, looking frustrated. In front of her was a target full of arrows, but none of them had hit the centre.

Judging by her thick bangs and the rounded faces of her friends there with her, this was an older memory. Hamish was sharpening an axe so big that just looking at it made Percy’s arms ache, while Tripta tinkered over something on her lap, her hair hanging over so that Percy couldn’t see what. Paul, meanwhile, stood at Velia’s shoulder offering her some reassurance.

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Velia huffed. “I know, sorry. It’s just frustrating, knowing that I used to be better.”

“Well you’re still better than any of us, although that’s not saying much. It’s just a matter of time and practice, and until then you’ve got your magic- “

He stepped back as Vel nocked another arrow and shot, this time only hitting the bottom corner of the target. She groaned.

“Thanks. I just want to know that I can defend myself without magic. But that means getting used to shooting when I’m not on my feet and without-” She made a vague gesture which Paul seemed to understand, even if Percy didn’t “-extra help. It’s hard, is all. Let’s go, I can come back another day. Thanks, all of you, for keeping me company.”

She made to leave, but before she could Tripta called out for her to stay put, lifting her head to reveal the project on her lap. It was a crossbow, so beautifully made that it almost made Percy wish he was less terrible at archery. The handle part was a dull black, engraved with silver lines that looked like bare branches and got thicker towards the part where the bow was. That part was a silver so pure that it almost seemed to glow but had strands of a duller metal running through it, like veins.

Velia’s mouth dropped open when she was presented with it, reaching towards it but not taking it, like she was scared it would burn her if she did.

“Is that…?”

Tripta nodded, looking equally nervous and self-satisfied. “Yeah. I know you said to get rid of the pieces but, well, we’d held onto them for this long. It wasn’t strong enough to use as a bow on its own, even after I got it back in one piece, but then you said you were having trouble shooting and I thought this up. I managed to work a little of its old magic into the new design so it should just appear when you need- “

Before she could finish the details of its design, Velia had reached up and pulled her down into a hug. Tripta looked a little startled by the sudden affection but not unhappy about it.

“So I take that means you like it?”

“Very, very much.”

When they were done there, Hamish leant down next to Velia and showed her on how to shoot the new weapon.

“How do you know all this?” Paul asked, as Hamish guided her arm with a gentle hand.

“Museum heist. Had to set up a zipwire. It was a few years ago now, but I remember the basics.”

That sentence alone gave Percy about a thousand Questions, but Velia and her friends just made vague sounds of agreement, and continued loading the bow, as if it had explained everything. Whatever Velia’s story was, he didn’t doubt that it would be interesting.

When she fired, the bolt hit the bullseye, first time. Everyone cheered, with Trip seizing her in another hug, and Paul launching himself at Hamish.

The sounds of joy faded into darkness as soft as a quilt, and for the first time that week, Percy slept well.

AUGUSTUS

After a full thirty-six hours of deliberation, Augustus thought he’d finally decided what to do about Velia’s proposition.

He’d attacked the question from every angle, and when he looked at the problem entirely logically, he’d decided that it wasn’t worth it. It couldn’t work. He’d always maintained that the dead should be allowed to rest in peace, and he’d been vocal in the past about how he felt about death magic. This would only serve to dredge up painful memories.

He’d approached Velia at breakfast with every intention of telling her that, knowing that if he said no now she’d never bring it up again. They could forget that this had ever happened.

But then, when she saw him, and locked her big, black eyes with his own, all that logic seemed to evaporate. It was the emotional part of August, that he only tended to let out on special occasions, that led him to sit beside Velia with his bowl and tell her:

“I’ve got some questions, yeah, but I think I want to do it.”

“Want to do what?”

He’d been so lost in his thought that he hadn’t noticed Tripta appear behind him. His first reaction was to deny everything, but Velia leaned towards him and whispered,

“If we do this, I might need some help. We’ll have to tell the others. That okay?”

He nodded, so she turned to Trip and told her that she’d “Explain it all later” before turning back to her breakfast, and lighter conversations. Trip moved to sit across the table from them.

“What times the appointment again, August?”

“Two. So, we probably need the twelve-fifty-five bus.” They were getting the bus into the city today so he could talk to that tattoo artist about the design he wanted and then hopefully make an appointment to get it done later in the week.

“Ooh, is this for tattoos? I went with Velia when she got hers done, and I’ve got to say I was impressed with the guy’s stuff. He’s really good. I mean, he did this one with a lion-” Trip told him, settling down on the bench.

“Yeah? I think I saw that one on his Instagram. He’s really talented.”

“And Velia’s coming with you?” she probed, a knowing smirk creeping over her face despite Vel’s warning look.

“Uh huh. I thought it would be good to bring someone who knew what was what. And to keep me company.”

“Of course, of course.” Tripta bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from outright grinning. Between that and Velia’s unimpressed look, August knew that she was working up to something, gods’ knew what. She continued. “And this has absolutely nothing, nothing at all, with the fact that when she got hers done the receptionist flirted with Velia the entire time. Tall, undercut, sleeves. What was her name again? Kathrin? Kelsey?”

“Keeley.” Velia cut her off. “And she absolutely wasn’t, and even if she did, she believes in crystal healing, so no thanks.”

“Wait,” August couldn’t resist a chance to join in on teasing Velia over what was, by now, a familiar topic. “You’re a literal witch, but you’re dumping on crystal healing like that? I’ve seen _you_ use crystals.”

Velia groaned. They’d had this conversation before, and it never failed to get under her skin “Yeah, in protection amulets and energy rituals. Not as a substitute for _penicillin._ Sorcery and stupidity are two very different things!”

That cracked him and Trip up, with Velia joining in after a moment’s hesitation. The tension that had been in his stomach these last couple of days melted away.

\---

After breakfast he’d filled in the time having a kick-about, by which he meant a game of soccer with very loosely defined teams and rules, right up until it was time for him to go meet Velia at the bus stop.

She’d beaten him there, but she wasn’t alone as she waited for him. Tripta was with her, perched on the back of the bench. The pair were deep in discussion about something, judging by the way Trip’s eyebrows were knitted together, and how Velia was talking with her hands more and more as they went on. They were so focused on what they were saying that neither of them noticed him approaching from behind. 

“-And this dude seeing you, you’re sure it’s not some kind of glitch or, like, a hole in the magic? I mean, we know that the spell isn’t infallible-”

Vel cut her off, flapping with both hands.

“Trip, you know that isn’t how this works. Even if you can work around magic like this, at a cost, but you can’t deny it. Magic that can fool death and all its trappings, wouldn’t be stopped by a half-blood in his forties. All signs point to it weakening, which if you consider everything I-“

He must have caught the corner of her eye because Velia whipped around on the bench, her face schooled into a calm, confident expression.

“Hiya August. I was just filling Trip in on this plan. She thinks it’ll work.”

He supposed that was reassuring, but what he’d heard of their conversation hadn’t exactly put him at ease.

“It will, if you’re right.” She said looking back to Vel.

“I am.”

“Good. Are we telling the chuckle brothers?”

“I’d like to. I can’t see Paul saying no.”

“Of Course.” Tripta scoffed, self-deprecating, “He’ll do anything so long as he doesn’t have to make the first move.”

“Hey!” Velia reminded her. “He’s trying.”

She looked a little sheepish at that. August was a little disappointed himself. He’d hoped that after the campfire everything would be straightened out between Tripta and Paul.

“I saw you two talking last night- I thought you’d maybe sorted it out.”

“We apologised and talked about the fight we had on Monday. We both said some pretty uh, below the belt stuff. No pun intended. But, uh, the other stuff-“She winced and bit her lip. “Still unresolved and still on him. I’m not compromising on that.”

“And you shouldn’t have to.” Velia chimed in. The two shared a smile, and squeezed hands.

“Back on topic.” Tripta said, her tone shifting to decisive “Hamish?”

“I’ll tell him.” She didn’t sound wild about the prospect.

The bus became visible, as it came up over the hill into town. He had a lot of questions about Velia and Trip’s conversation that he’d interrupted by arriving, but they would have to wait for now. Right now, he just wanted to get one thing straight.

“So you think it’s a good idea?” He asked Trip, as he got up to signal the bus.

“What?” Trip looked up from hugging Velia. “No, I think its crap.”

“But you’re in?” Velia checked.

“Always.” Trip hopped off the bench and set off back down the path as the bus pulled in, giving Augustus a mocking salute in place of a goodbye. “Give my love to Keeley!”

She didn’t turn back when Velia gave her indignant shout, but August knew her well enough to know that she’d be laughing to herself.

\---

They didn’t talk about it again until they were on the bus home. The artist was fantastic, both his art style and how respectful he was when he asked his questions, trying to get a good idea on design. Eventually they settled on something like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, just dark enough to cover up his tattoo, and white ink making it really stand out. He was coming back in three days to get it done before Yule kicked off on the solstice.

And, pained as he was to admit it, Trip was right. Keeley the receptionist was definitely flirting with Velia, who, while decidedly uninterested, was more than a little flattered by the attention.

It was hard to believe that he was finally doing this. They sat at the back of the bus. He had his sweater sleeve rolled up, as he traced his finger over those five black lines. They didn’t feel any different to the rest of his skin, and when he got this new tattoo, they’d still be there underneath it. Same as his past would still be there no matter what he chose to do now. Maybe he’d spent too much time around Hamish. He’d never placed this much stock in metaphors before.

Vel tapped his arm, bringing him out of her reverie.

“I can’t believe that this’ll be gone soon.”

“No, me neither.”

“It’s like saying goodbye.” She murmured, grasping her forearm, and running her thumb over the spot where her own tattoo was.

“Speaking of saying goodbye…” August said, hoping she’d pick up where he was going with it. Lucky for him Vel was perceptive. That or he still wasn’t that hot on metaphors.

“Do you still want to?” Her hand moved down to squeeze his. He didn’t doubt that if he said no now, then they’d never talk about it again. But…

“I still want to. I just need to know some stuff first.”

She nodded, swivelling around in her seat to face him, as far as she could without digging her knees into his side. He took that as a sign to keep talking.

“This magic, why couldn’t you do it before? And what does it have to do with Bagshaw at the funeral?”

“How much did you hear us say?”

“Her asking if a spell had been incomplete, and you saying it couldn’t be, which meant it was weakening. You meant the First Witch’s spell, didn’t you. The one that meant I couldn’t go back to Rome.” 

He could tell by looking at Velia that he’d gotten the measure of it. He didn’t know how to feel about that. In exchange for his life, August had become invisible to everyone he’d once shared it with. For the woods to protect itself, Augustus Birden had had to die. He didn’t resent the life he had now, but he resented having his choices taken away from him.

“Yeah. The ritual I want to use is Greek, so by extension its Roman. I didn’t think you couldn’t use it, because that would still be communicating to a Roman demigod in a Roman afterlife, where you’re meant to be. It wouldn’t work for the same reason you couldn’t have just gone up to him on the street.”

All of this checked out. It also reminded him of his fear that Jason had wound up in the underworld, expecting to see him there and not finding him.

“But now?” He asked, realising the answer as soon as he said it. “Bagshaw could see me.”

“ _Until Rome Proves capable of peace_. That’s what the stone, and the story says. They’ve more or less shown that they don’t want war. The Athena Parthanos? That whole quest with the seven? It sounds like a gesture towards reconciliation if I ever saw one. Plus that pale, weasel looking twat-“

“Octavian?”  
“Yeah, him.”

“How do you know what he looks like?”

“Oh, uh, Mary must have described him. Anyway, all of that, plus a couple of other signs. It might mean that even if this place is still hidden from the gods, individual witches aren’t anymore. It means that they could see you.”

August let that sink in. He knew that he didn’t want to go back to New Rome. But if he could just tell them that he’d survived, or have some kind of contact with Bagshaw? He might want that eventually, when he was ready.

“So if your spell works, if Jason can see me, that means…”

“It means whatever you want it to mean. If You want to disappear in the night, and go back to New Rome? That’s okay. If you want to stay here with your new family and finish college? You can. Or you can find some happy medium. It doesn’t matter. It’s all up to you.”

So much for leaving things behind him.

“I’m sorry.”

He looked up at Velia, baffled as to what she was apologising for. She could obviously tell, because she kept going.

“When you came home, I noticed that you seemed so at peace. And now I’ve taken that away from you, giving you all these choices to make. I want to know where we stand with Rome, but please,” She took his other hand in hers “ _please_ , believe me when I say that isn’t why I offered to do this for you. I almost didn’t offer, because _I_ know that raising the dead can be a slippery slope, and I know that you weren’t a fan of it. But I know how important goodbyes can be, and I thought this might help you.”

Vel had that wide open look on her face again. Equally sad and intense, he didn’t doubt that she meant what she said. She mentioned that _she_ knew what raising the dead could do to a person. With her painful past, as vague as it was, he shuddered to think how she’d gained that knowlege. So why was he still even considering this?

“I don’t know what I want to do in the future. If I can go back. I’m happy here.” She turned to look out the window. It had already gotten dark outside, and the stars got a little brighter as the bus moved farther out of the city.

“I’ve got one last question, then.”

“Shoot.”

“You said something before about working around the magic. What does that mean? Mary, she _swore_ that there was no way back, you and Paul said it too.” _Did you lie to me?_

He didn’t ask that part aloud. He didn’t have to. She didn’t turn back from the window.

“There is no way back. There’s only story. About someone else who was saved by the spell. Who had to walk invisible.”  
“A story?” That caught August’s attention. That was one of the few things that Roma and the woods had in common. Everything was just a story, at the end of the day. All the monsters and the heroes. They were only real insofar as people knew them, believed in them. “Was it written down or is it just word of mouth?”

Velia pulled her hair over her shoulder. It was a thoughtless gesture but still served to hide her face a little.

“Nothing’s written, no. But apparently Witch left behind a family that who wouldn’t accept their death, so kept trying to communicate with a spirit that didn’t exist. Instead all could summon was a shade that had the Witch’s face, but it wouldn’t speak or move. So the one’s she left behind went further and further, to try and bring her back.”

Velia’s voice was flat and quiet. The story so vague, that it felt more like a warning parable than it did a true story. Still, as someone who knew what it was to grieve, it chilled August to the bone. Velia noticed, because she looked back at him for the first time since she’d started.

“It’s not a happy story, sorry.”

“It’s fine. What did they do?”

“Well, apparently, the witch almost drove herself mad trying to find away to undo the spell that his her, but it couldn’t be done. Instead she worked around it. Found loopholes. The witch used her invisibility to watch over her family and bring them help. Then, when they tried to summon her again, she cast an illusion over the shade and through it told them to stop summoning her.”

Velia had her back to him completely now, all her focus on the night going by through the bus window.

“What happened to the witch after that?” He said it gently, shaking her out of her trance.

“Her story was over. She disappeared.” Velia said. That sounded about right. He knew from reading Classics most heroes’ stories ended once the big adventure was done. What happened after that was rarely recorded so clearly.

“Well what’s the moral of the story then,” August probed, assuming that this was the type of story meant to teach a lesson. It wasn’t like Velia to go on tangents, and to waste her words. “You can’t beat the Woods magic, but you can try to trick it somehow? Or just not to raise the dead.”

Velia finally turned back to face him then, her eyes wide and a little glassy. Maybe her own experience with grief, and with him dealing with that same spell, meant that the story meant more to her than it did to most people.

“It means if you’re going to raise the dead, then you do it for the right reasons,” Her hand was still in his, and she gave it a tight squeeze. “You can’t hold onto what was. But you can let it go on good terms, whatever that means to you.”

For once in his life, Augustus Birden didn’t use logic. He didn’t consider what he should do in abstract terms of honour, and roman morals. Something more instinctive, inside him reared up for the second time that day. He made his choice.

“I think, if you can help me, it’s time for me to say goodbye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We got there in the end! I had writers block something terrible with this one, so that it's miracle it's being published at all!  
> This is another very talking heavy chapter but don't worry, the action picks up now. Forgive my angry take on Thalia but like...let her grieve Richard. Just let her go apeshit. Also, and I can't stress this enough: PERCY IS A GOOD FRIEND AND DESERVES THE WORLD  
> Meanwhile Velia is also a good friend, but who knows what else and August needs to rest. But thats a fun story at least, right?  
> Hopefully I expressed myself okay in this chapter- imma give it another proof later but RN I'm off to the seaside!  
> PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK! Even if You're not loving the story, if you've made it this far there must be some reason. Love it? Hate it? Cant work out what's going on? Drop a comment! And remember KUDOS!  
> So long and have a lovely week kids!


	13. King of Wands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> REUPLOAD - I'm dead sorry, but I had to make some proof-reading/grammatical changes but mainly there's an extra scene added to the bottom! I'd meant to put it on the next chapter but it didn't quite flow right and it made way more sense to put it here, so enjoy your 800 word, midweek update! Sorry again!

**KING OF WANDS**

_taking control, daring decisions, optimism_

PERCY

As the rocking of the ship lulled him to sleep, Percy’s dreams were gentle.

He saw himself at the Fourth of July Fireworks at Camp Half-Blood. It must have been the summer he was thirteen, because Thalia was there.

He wove through the crowd with Grover, passing Clarisse. She must have been in a good mood because when Percy smiled at her she’d smiled back. Then again, _everyone_ had been in a good mood that night. They made their way over to stand with Annabeth and Thalia. 

Six years on, he could still remember arguing with himself, over whether he should put his arm around Annabeth’s shoulder. His eyes kept flickering over to her and shaking out his arm like he was about to lift a weight. This was something that _friends_ did, he’d told himself, as he put one arm around Annabeth and threw the other around Grover as if that proved how platonic it the gesture was.

At the time, he hadn't noticed her blush or smile or noticed her lean into him just a touch. He hadn’t seen the knowing look that Grover had given them. He was starting to understand how that betting pool had started.

It was a rare moment of peace. Optimistic, almost. 

When the dream changed, he saw Velia and her friends, standing in a crowd of at least a hundred other people. While they were mostly kids and teenagers there were some families and clusters of adults there too, all watching a giant log being set alight. There was no lighting other than the flames, and the bright night's sky above them, and the buzz of talking and laughter gave the whole thing a holiday atmosphere. Judging by Velia's bobbed hair and the roundedness of her face, this was an older memories.

Even though she was wrapped up in a thick quilted coat and a green scarf, Velia shivered. Hamish noticed.

He held his jacket open in the same gentle, hopeful way that he’d asked her to dance; like he was afraid of scaring her off or crossing a line. Velia glanced around like she were making sure no one was watching, before she smiled and nodded. Stepping just in front of him, she held the jacket closed around herself, the warm body behind her probably doing more to keep her warm than the worn, brown leather. Percy thought was a sweet gesture.

Before Hamish could figure out what to do with his arms (a struggle Percy could relate to), their friend Paul turned to see them, his face splitting into a grin.

“Ooh, human blanket! Good shout Vel; Hamish runs hot as an oven.”

He took one of Hamish’s arms and wrapped it around his shoulders and Tripta took the other so that the three of them were huddled together like penguins within Hamish’s massive arm span. Paul linked his arm through Velia's, as she leaned back into Hamish, and rested her head against Tripta’s shoulder.

Augustus had been watching all this with a sort of fond exasperation, like he couldn’t believe how much he liked these idiots. When Paul took him by the arm and pulled him into the hug, he grumbled, but he didn’t pull away.

The last thing he saw was Hamish, letting his chin drop to rest on top of her head - he was that much taller than she was- before the dream faded into black, tranquil sleep.

\---

The morning had been uneventful so far. Thalia was still asleep, leaving Percy and Annabeth to lie together on one of the deckchairs. If you could ignore the biting cold, it was almost like being on vacation. Or it least it was until Annabeth spotted something in the water.

“Percy, look.”

It was difficult to see what she was pointing to, through the sunlight refracting off the ocean, but there was something bobbing in the water just in view of the Beloved.

“Can you get it closer?” Annabeth asked. He could sense that they were near the Scottish coast, so if there was something in the water, that might be where it came from. Or just be a monster. Only one way to find out. He used the water to pull the thing towards them.

Once it was within a couple of yards of the ship, Percy could see what looked like hair. He was about to write it off as a lost coconut, bobbing in the ocean, until it rose up, out of the water just enough to reveal a pair of flinty eyes. They widened, taking Percy and Annabeth in for a moment. Then, like a switch had been flipped and they suddenly registered the danger they were in. The person in the began shouting for help, and thrashing about in the water.

They didn’t have to speak. Instinct kicked in. They rushed to find their rope ladder, calling for Thalia to come help them. Between the three of them they managed to haul the guy out of the water, get him in to the bridge and then spent a frantic couple of minutes trying to warm him up, so he didn’t die of hypothermia whilst on board.

He was young man, in his early twenties maybe. He should have been coughing up seawater, throwing up, or at least _really_ shivering, but no. He was shockingly put together for someone who’d almost drowned. The only sign that he’d been anywhere near the ocean were the scraps of seaweed and the sand in his hair, that he made no attempts to shake out.

“So, how come we had to rescue you?”

“Well, because I was in the water,” He deflected, and then laughed as if he’d just made an incredible joke and leaned a little too much into Annabeth. “So, you’re Americans then? I’ve heard things about American girls- you’ll have to show me if they’re true. You’re a long way from home- “

He had a thick Scottish accent, and dodged every question they asked him with awful flirting. He was handsome, Percy guessed, with a chiselled jaw and tousled, sandy hair (in its colour _and_ that it was literally full of sand). Unfortunately for him, both girls had their own reasons for being deeply uninterested.

“What can we call you?”

“Loves, you can call me whatever you like.”

“And you can call us Annabeth and Thalia, nothing else.” Thalia got sick of humouring him very quickly, her voice dropping dangerously.

Annabeth shot Percy a look as if to say _is this guy for real?_ He took that as his cue to sit on the couch, wedging himself between Annabeth and the guy, and effectively pushing Thalia off the couch. Both shot him a look of thanks for putting some distance between themselves and the guy.

“Do you have a name?”

The guy looked irritated, as if Percy had interrupted something intimate when he knew full well that he hadn’t.

“Eugh oosh-guh.”

“Uh-?“

“Cannae get your tongue around the Gaelic?” He leaned towards Percy in a way that might have been intimidating if Percy hadn’t faced far worse than this creep.

But then, he stopped short of insulting Percy or threatening him. No, instead he inhaled, deeply, his brow furrowed.

“Smells like the sea.” He muttered. A slip up. Before Percy could grill him on it he kept talking. “That tends to happen on long voyages. The salt air lingers on the skin.” He leaned around Percy to look at Annabeth, some of the sand falling out of Ewan's hair and onto Percy's lap. “Of course, the smell suits you ladies far better. You can call me Ewan if the full things too much of a mouthful.”

Annabeth took him in for a second, her lip curled, before pulling herself up off the couch, and Percy with her.

“Nope. That’s it. Percy, I need to talk to you. We’ll be back.”

He followed her out of the door, leaving Thalia alone with Ewan, who was telling her she was _such a great nurse._ Percy almost stopped to punch him then and there. The way he hit on Annabeth was gross enough, but Thalia _looked_ _fifteen_. He gave her three minutes maximum before she either followed them out or strangled Ewan, otherwise Percy was going back in there.

Once they were safely in the corridor, Annabeth groaned. “Sorry, I had to get out of there. Even if he weren’t a massive creep, there’s something _off_ about him.

“You’re right.” Percy said, glad he wasn’t the only one to notice. “Where did he come from? We’re still pretty far from the coast, and we there aren’t any other boats around. Otherwise I’d just assume someone had thrown him overboard.”

She smiled at that. “Don’t tempt me. So what? If he’s a monster, then it’s not one I’ve heard of. Maybe some minor ocean god, or a spirit?”

“No idea. Unless…” It occurred to Percy that the Aspidochelone hadn’t featured in any Greek myth’s that they'd been taught. “Unless it isn’t one of ours.”

Before Percy could elaborate on that, Thalia came crashing out of the door.

“Thanks for that guys,” She turned to Annabeth, “I thought no woman left behind applied to these situations, not just fighting giant Wolves."

“Sorry,” Annabeth almost smiled again, but then she got a worried look. “He didn’t try anything, did he?”

“Nah. If he had, he wouldn’t still be breathing. But I had to bounce after he told me I had a beautiful neck. Also, is that sand in his hair or just dandruff?”

“Not sure. He’s gross.”

“Super gross. But what else?”

“We don’t know- “Annabeth started to pace the narrow corridor. “- When I was doing research with my cousin, Magnus, I read about something called a Nokken? But that still doesn’t fit. They played music, to lure people into drowning, like sirens. They didn’t just…talk.” She stopped and turned back to them. “It’s more likely he’s a mortal, right? We can just pull into the coast and leave him there?”

Thalia nodded, but Percy had to disagree.

“I’m all for getting rid of him, as soon as possible. But he said that I smell like the sea. That's a line I usually only get from monsters.”

Annabeth groaned again and rested her forehead on his shoulder.

“Great. Okay. Should we just go in and stab him now? If he’s a monster and it kills him, great. If he isn’t and it doesn’t, then no harm no foul.”

Before he could consider the benefits of that plan, Thalia already had her knife in hand.

“Sounds like a plan.”

She cracked the door open, poised like a panther about to pounce…before slamming it shut behind her and collapsing back against it.

“Thalia, what’s wrong? What’s he doing?”

“I didn’t see.”

“How could you not see?” He asked, amazed by how quickly her bravado was gone.

“I don’t know, Percy, I was a little distracted by the _horse_.”

“The _what_?”

He and Annabeth said it in unison. Thalia stood aside, with a toss of her hand that said _see for yourself._ They opened the door, just wide enough for them to see through it. Sure enough, there stood glossy black stallion, which definitely hadn’t been there when they’d left.

“ _What?”_

AUGUSTUS

“- Trip’s meeting us at the bottom of the track, so we’ve got, what, half an hour to get to the cinema before the film starts? Do we have snacks, or do we need to swing by the shop?”

August was going to see the new Star Wars with Paul and Tripta. Velia and Hamish weren’t fans, so they were staying in and watching some old black-and-white movie. Paul wasn’t a big Star Wars fan either, but he said that if he was going to fall asleep whilst watching a film today, he’d rather do it on a padded seat, in a temperature controlled room, while listening to a score composed by John Williams (and sitting next to Tripta.)

“Uuuh, shop. Does your dad have any popcorn in?”

“Aye, we’ll need the big bag to put it in though. Alreet, sound. Should we nip in and ask Hamish and Vel if they want owt? We can bring it back with the-”

“Might want to hold off on that. Mommy and Daddy are fighting.”

A girl, Anushka who he recognised from Vel and Tripta's coven, called out to them as they crossed her and Mary on the path. Her tone was mocking, but there was real concern underneath it. Before she could give them any context or explanation, she kissed Mary on the cheek.

“Better run. Cam’s waiting.”

“Give her my love, in case I don’t see her before she leaves tomorrow.”

“Will do.” Anushka nodded to them, and headed towards camp, her dark hair ponytail and her red skirt swishing as she walked.

Mary hung back. The silver pendant that marked her as a Witch Mother (one of three, elected as leaders) rested over her heart, and her hair hung loose, draping down her back like a cloak over her long, woven coat.

“Velia told me about you guys’, uh, _plans_ for tomorrow.” She shot an apologetic look at August. “Don’t worry, she only told me to ask if I thought it could work. Magic-wise and emotionally. I think she’s right if it’s any consolation.“

August reassured her it was fine. He and Velia had already discussed who would have to know about their plan, and they figured if they were doing complex magic, and there was a chance that they weren't invisible anymore then someone in charge should probably know about it. Mary was well versed in both magic and grief, and her relationship with Rome was even more complicated than his. He could appreciate her needing a heads up if there were _any_ chance she might have to see her blood-relatives again. It was reassuring to know she’d approved the plan.

She turned back to Paul.

“But yeah. If that’s what they’re arguing about, I’d leave it for now.”

The confidence he’d gotten from Mary’s endorsement dimmed somewhat at that.

“Why would they be arguing over it?”

Mary worried her lip between her teeth. Paul rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous tick that August was knew well. He remembered Velia had seemed a little cagey about telling Hamish about the plan yesterday.

“The two of them saw someone doing the spell once,” Paul explained, after some silent prompting from Mary. “Not long before you got to camp. It’s how Velia learnt about it. But the kid doing it, a Greek demigod… he wasn’t in a good place, I don’t think. It was upsetting for them to watch, especially for Velia.”

He winced, remembering that Velia had lost her own brother when she was younger. _I know that raising the dead can be a slippery slope,_ Velia’s voice rang around his head. He remembered the story she'd told him, the lesson that she'd taken from it. It made sense considering her own loss and what she'd apparently seen.

“And then for Hamish to see her in a state over it,” Paul continued, “Well, you can get why he wouldn’t be wild about Velia doing the spell herself.”

“Yeah, I can.” August said slowly, mulling it over. He could appreciate that Hamish knew Velia better than he did, and would only have her best interests at heart but- “Still, if Velia thinks she can handle it. You said yourself; we've got to trust that she knows her own capabilities. I want to do this because I think it could help me move on or work out what I want. I’m not like that kid, and I’m not like the family from that story Velia told me, where the Witch pretends to be her own ghost. I only want to say goodbye.”

He’d been more certain than he had in a long time, and he spoke like it, trying sound confident. He wasn’t sure if he’d managed. While Mary seemed to agree with him, she looked a touch confused, whereas Paul gazed into the middle distance, lost in thought.

“Sorry." Mary told him, "I don’t think I’ve ever heard that story. Paul?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been here longest, so you’re the expert. Do you know it?”

“Oh, aye. I’ve heard it.” He didn’t sound too happy about it, but whether that was down to the sad story or something else, August couldn’t say. “I know it.”

Once he’d confirmed that, Mary smiled.

“She’ll have to tell it to me some time.” She turned to August, her voice warm and sincere. “I wish you all the luck in the world. Give Jason my love.”

“I will.” August promised. As she was walking away, he glanced at his watch. He hadn’t realised how long they’d been standing there.

“Crap, Paul, we’ve only got fifteen minutes now. I’ve got to get my wallet and the big bag. Go meet Trip, and I’ll run and catch up.”

He didn’t mind lagging a little behind the others. He knew Tripta would be burning with that intensity she reserved for hand to hand combat and Star Wars discourse. August was aiming for a more relaxing viewing experience.

It was weird. Velia was so calm and Hamish so good-natured that it was hard to imagine them arguing with anyone, never mind each other. But, sure enough, as he passed Velia’s door, he could hear heated voices, only mostly muffled by the walls. Hamish said something about a _morbid sense of responsibility_ and _not_ _owing_ , drifted through _._

He went about his business as quickly and quietly as possible, so they wouldn’t know he was there. Someone as private as Velia wouldn't want eavesdropping. He was just locking his door when he heard her shout:

_“What harm could it do? When I’m already haunted by the living.”_

He'd never heard her yell before.

That was followed by a beat of silence. Then, muffled sobs and words of comfort.

August _had_ felt a nagging guilt, seeing as this fight was happening because Velia wanting to help him. But now he was suspecting that this argument wasn’t about him, or Jason, not really. It was something inside herself. A memory maybe. One of her secrets.

Checking his watch again, he set off on a light jog down the path. Whatever they did tomorrow. If they were still fighting when they got back, he wouldn't make Velia go through with it. She'd given him the choice to back out. It was only fair that Augustus do the same for her.

PERCY

“There has to be a rational explanation for this.”

Thalia almost laughed at that. “Since when? Maybe it followed Percy here.”

“Followed me from where? Even if horses can sense me, they can’t teleport.” Percy said, more confused than indignant. “Maybe Ewan summoned it?”

“I don’t know. I’ve heard of Water Horses but I thought they were meant to appear near the water, not in it.” Annabeth was getting more and more frustrated. The situation, while not immediately dangerous, was mind-bending.

“So, what do we do?” Thalia asked. “I mean, usually I’d be all for stabbing a horse, but I don’t think killing one of your father’s sacred animals in his territory would work out well for me. It’s not like we can just go in and ask-“

Both girls turned to face him at once. _They_ couldn’t just go in and ask the horse how it got there, but Percy could. Not needing to be told, he got up and took Riptide out of his pocket, keeping it capped.

“Okay.”

Slowly, Percy opened the door and let himself back into the room. When the horse saw him, it didn’t speak, only whinnied and backed into the wall like it was afraid.Percy thought that he’d best try a gentle approach. He couldn’t see Ewan anywhere and he couldn’t see where he could have escaped to. Maybe the horse would know.

Carefully, he held out his hands and took a step towards it.

“Easy, fella’, easy.” The horse seemed to calm down as Percy approached, even starting to nuzzle at him once he was close enough. Percy gave the girls, watching from the doorway, a thumbs up. No flesh-eating teeth, no fire breathing; it seemed like a normal animal. Both breathed a sigh of relief and came in a little further, keeping their hands on their weapons.

Percy reached to pet his neck, hoping to keep it relaxed until they figured out how it got there and how to get it out again.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

But when Percy tried to move his hands, he found they were stuck fast. Starting to panic, he tried harder to yank them off, but they didn’t budge.

 _Don’t fucking condescend me._ The horse told him, in a familiar voice.

 _What?_ Thought Percy. Then it clicked.

“Ewan _is_ the horse.”

“What?!”

With both hands stuck on the horse’s neck, Percy couldn’t reach for a weapon. He was helpless. Annabeth threw her knife, strong and straight. It should have pierced Ewan’s neck but instead it passed straight through, as if there were nothing there at all, and narrowly missed taking Percy out.

Annabeth’s eyes widened in shock and fear, but Ewan the horse was unphased. He bared his teeth and _harrumphed,_ in the approximation of a laugh.

_Foreign weapons with strange blessings can’t kill one of this land, idiot._

Before he could translate the warning, Ewan reared up on his back legs, lifting Percy clean off the ground and making his friends to fall back to avoid the hooves.

_Not my intended target, but we’ll have to make do, won’t we?_

And then he ran straight through the window, dragging Percy with him.

He was amazed that he wasn’t sliced apart by broken glass or knocked unconscious, or that his legs weren’t broken under falling hooves as he was dragged across the decks of the ship. His arms screamed from the strain as his whole body was pulled along by them.

Percy could have wept with relief when the Horse leapt into the sea, the water giving Percy a new burst of strength they dove down, down into the sea. His hands were still fused to the horses hide, so Percy had no choice but to be dragged along.

This went on for who knows how long, Ewan diving and Percy resisting it. He had his feet braced against the horse’s head and was pushing, trying to pry his hands off that way, when Ewan asked the million-dollar question.

_What are you, that won’t fucking drown?_

“I’m the son of Poseidon, god of the sea.” Percy said, with all the confidence he could muster given how stupid this must have looked. “What are you, that wants to fucking drown me?”

That seemed to agitate Ewan more, as he thrashed around, trying to dislodge Percy’s legs. For all it was trying to kill him, there was something about fighting a horse that felt a little wrong to Percy. Hopefully, the fact that the horse was the instigator, and definitely not Greek, would lessen the offence in his Father’s eyes

 _I told you once before, but your fat tongue kept you from taking heed._ It made a surprising lurch, leaving Percy to hang by his arms again. _I am the Each-uisge. The fiercest of the water horses._

It managed to turn about in the water fast enough to catch the corner of Percy’s jeans between his teeth, but let go when Percy launched a sharp kick to his nose. He sensed something drop onto the water above him, but Ewan, too concentrated on grabbing at him, didn’t seem to notice it. That gave him some hope.

 _Fine! So You won’t drown- I’ll just have to tear you apart while you’re still living._ Ewan’s voice seethed with rage. _Your liver floating to the surface will be the only thing left for your lady friends to mourn, because I’ll feast on the rest!_

Well. That went from zero to a hundred very fast. 

If Percy couldn’t lean rely on his sword skills, he’d have to depend on his powers and his friends for the second time on this quest. He could trust the latter at least.

He pushed down with his hands and let the water lift his legs up, like a kid doing a handstand on the bottom of a swimming pool. It made him streamlined, and most importantly, it kept his limbs as far as possible from gnashing teeth. Then, he willed the water to push him up, and up, as fast as it could. Thankfully, the resistance around the horse’s body pushed it down and kept him from biting at Percy.

When they breached the surface of the ocean, they were propelled up into the air. Percy looked around desperately, trying to figure out what he’d sensed in the water but before he could catch sight of anything the Water-Horse used Percy’s distraction to his advantage. He rotated their position in the air as best he could, so that when they landed back in the water, Percy’s arms were still fixed to the creatures neck but his body was tucked underneath, caged from above by Ewan’s torso and Body.

 _Nice Try._ It gloated, grabbing Percy’s hair in his teeth. In his panic, he imagined him ripping his scalp from his skull by it. It seemed as good a place as any to start, if the Water-Horse was planning on devouring Percy.

Percy felt something cold and sharp touch his shoulder. The horse let go.

_For Fuck’s sake._

When Percy glanced up, he saw the long, silver shaft of an arrow. It passed clean through Ewan’s throat, coming so close as to scratch Percy’s shoulder. He barely dared to breath.

Once the killing blow had been dealt, the horses body peeled away like a snake shedding its skin, leaving Percy with his hands attached to the neck of a handsome young man, with seaweed in his hair and eyes full of contempt. It wasn’t until his whole body had dissolved into sand, carried off by the ocean’s current, that Percy’s hands were free.

When he pushed his head above the water Thalia was there, kneeling on a mattress which, judging by how quickly it was taking on water, wouldn’t float for much longer.

“So the silver worked better, then? I got him?”

Percy grinned up at her. There was a rope connecting the mattress to the Beloved, where Annabeth stood on deck with an expression of pure relief.

“Right through the throat.”

“What a shame.” Thalia said, her tone dry. “He had a beautiful neck.”

AUGUSTUS

“Just…unbe-fucking- lievable. How could they? I want fucking Justice for the actors. I want justice for everyone who saw it. This, _this_ , is why you don’t swap directors mid-franchise. _This_ is why you don’t bow to fucking fan service and sacrifice story telling. I mean, who did this film make happy? No one. Fuck! What would Carrie Fisher say-?”

Tripta had started ranting as they’d left the theatre and after half an hour of walking, was still going strong. Paul, who’d slept through the action climax of the film (how, August didn’t know) barely understood what she was talking about, but he was doing his best to be supportive.

She’d only stopped when they made a detour to the Parkers’ place to pick up some old, canned goods and off-brand soda for their summoning tomorrow. When they’d told Paul's dad that the food was to summon the ghost of August’s friend, he’d not been freaked out. Instead he'd asked if Jason had a favourite food that they wanted to use. August wasn’t sure if the dead could tell the difference, but he dug around for some tins of chilli anyway. That was Rick Parker's policy- to offer no judgement and whatever support he could.

They’d planned on dumping the bag in the common room and going to dinner, but Hamish and Velia were there when they arrived tucked up together on a loveseat. He was sat reading a book, while she was sewing clusters of little stars onto her black dress, with beads and metallic thread. Looking at them, there was no sign that they’d ever fought.

“Great! You’re back.” Hamish shut his book when he saw them and pulled a takeout menu out the pocket of his flannel shirt. “We were thinking about ordering a Chinese?”

“Sounds good. What are their veggie options like?” Trip took the offered menu and scanned through it, her Star-wars rage momentarily forgotten at the prospect of spring rolls.

Once they’d settled on an order Tripta and Paul went outside to find cell service good enough to call the takeaway, leaving August alone with Hamish and Vel. Any awkwardness was entirely on him, since the other two were chatting away as usual, and couldn't know that August had heard them arguing.

“What’s the occasion?” August asked. Ordering in was a treat, reserved either for birthdays or as a bribe for doing physical labour for Rick.

Hamish shrugged. “I’ve been fancying one for a while, and Magic takes a lot of energy. Nerves don’t exactly help appetites, do they? If we’re going to raise the dead tomorrow, we’d best fill our boots now.”

“Oh.” August tried not to sound surprised. “So you’re going to help tomorrow with…well, uh-“

“You’re Goodbye, aye. Well, I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I want to be there for you.” He said it so casually, it was hard to believe he’d ever had a problem with it.

Out of the corner of his eye August saw Velia’s hand brush against Hamish’s, where it hung by his side. The gesture was feather light and it only lasted a second. Hamish flexed his hand like he was savouring the contact.

August knew that he was unobservant, as a rule, but once he knew what to look out for he noticed an awful lot.

Whatever the two of them were, it could wait. Hell, if this worked then August swore he'd never pry or speculate about Velia again. The closer he got to seeing Jason, the more real it seemed and the more desperately he wanted it.

“Thankyou, Hamish. Thank you so much.” He put his hand on his friend's shoulder, earning himself a raised eyebrow. It was rare that August initiated physical contact with anyone other than the Parkers. Still, Hamish grinned, and mirrored the gesture with his own, huge hand.

“Don’t be daft. That’s what we do isn’t it? The five of us.” He glanced back to Velia who watched them with those soft, sad eyes of hers, tracing her thumb over where her tattoo lay underneath her thick, white sweater. “We look after each other.”

PERCY

The rest of the day had been spent making sure that Thalia was dry. They were passing over Orkney now, the archipelago at the very top of Scotland. By tomorrow they should be docking at Inverness, and from there who knew? But soon it would all be over.

Since the single mattress was still soaked, that left Percy and Thalia sleeping top-and-tail in the double bed. While Annabeth had seemed happy as she helped them back aboard, hugging them and laughing, she'd been in a acting a little strange ever since. She had insisted on taking watch that night, and refused any company. It worried Percy a little, but he was too tired from a day of horse wrestling to argue.

But she featured prominently in his dreams.

 _“So if the gods fight,”_ He watched himself say. _“will things line up the way they did in the Trojan war? Will it be Athena versus Poseidon?”_

Twelve years old and huddled in the back of a Zoo transportation truck, he’d been told that going to the Underworld would be the most dangerous thing he’d ever do. Ignorance was bliss, he guessed.

A young Annabeth put her head against their backpack and shut her eyes.

_“I don’t know what my mom will do. I just know I’ll fight next to you.”_

_"Why?”_ He’d asked her, obviously pleased but blinking in confusion.

 _"Because you’re my friend seaweed brain. Anymore stupid questions?”_ And he’d smiled and relaxed against the wall. They’d come a long way since then.

The dream shifted to show him Velia and Hamish sitting about a foot apart from each other on a single bed. The room had a similar layout to Velia’s, except where hers had been carefully decorated, this one was lined with books. Dozens of them, old and new, hardbacks and paperbacks, stacked wherever they would fit. 

“This has to work. It has to…” Velia took in a shaky breath, like she was trying to calm herself down. She didn’t look any older than thirteen. She had nervous energy that must have faded as she got older. Just like he was on that first quest, Velia was still growing into herself. He didn’t know what she was talking about, but it was obviously important to her. “It’ll work, won’t it?”

She turned to ask Hamish, her eyes wide and vulnerable. Hamish swallowed.

“It should.”

Velia pushed her hand back through her hair, screwing her eyes shut. “And if it doesn’t?”

“We'll cross that bridge if we come to it.”

They sat in silence for a minute before Hamish asked.

“Have you eaten?”

“Huh?”

“I just, I noticed that you forget to. When you’re nervous. And I’ve got some crisps and mars bars and I think my uncle sent-” He started to rummage through a box underneath his bed, but Velia reached out to stop him.

“Trip made sure I ate at dinner.” She told him. “But thank you. For noticing. And for everything else." She kept her eyes trained to her hands, like she was embarrassed by her own honesty. 

That seemed to knock Hamish aback. You could almost the gears in his head turning as he tried to think of a response.

“You’re worth noticing. And you’d do it for me. We can,” he paused to grapple for the right words. “we can look after- look out for, I mean- each other.

Velia nodded, her lips quirking up despite her best efforts.

“I’d like that.”

Hamish smiled into his lap. Their hands, resting in the gap between them, had slowly inched together until their pinkie fingers barely touched.

“Aye?”

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd give us a percy-heavy chapter this week, since he isn't really featuring next week. What can I say? I miss him when he isn't here!  
> The Each Euisige is a real scottish myth, and i'll link the wikipedia page here:- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Each-uisge.  
> They're fun monsters, who would befriend mortals (either as a mortal or a horse, there's nothing to say that one could be both except for a little artistic license on my part), and they would become adhesive if you were touching one near the water. Then they would drag sailors into the sea, drown them and eat everything but the liver, which floats apparently. They had a preference for young women (hence the flirting) and in some stories bullets failed to kill them, until someone shot a silver coin trough a pistol. Hence the knife doesn't work but the silver arrow does. I had fun with this Chapter, in case you couldn't tell :'-D  
> Meanwhile, August's chapter is mostly setting things up. I feel like I've neglected Hamish a little, and I might end up replacing the dream sequence in the seventh/eighth chapter to make it a little more plot relevent. He and Velia, and their, uh, friendship shall we say become are relevent later so i'm interested how people see the two of them so far.  
> Thankyou so much for reading, and for leaving kudo's and comments, the plot's really going to pick up soon so that should be fun. KUDOS AND COMMENTS PLEASE I thrive on feedback, positive or otherwise!  
> Join us next week when we raise the ghost of Jason Grace. He has been missed.  
> Have a lovely week, and see you next week Xx


	14. Ace of Cups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love, Emotional Awakening, Spirituality.   
> We say goodbye to Jason Grace

**ACE OF CUPS**

_Love, Emotional Awakening, Spirituality_

AUGUSTUS

“Do you want us all to be there? Because the rest of us can go once its set up. Do you need to have a think about it.” Paul had asked him, at breakfast that morning.

So, as he went about his day, August thought.

He thought about Tripta.

_“He’s fucking trying.”_

_An ex-roman had been making fun August, as he’d struggled with his Laundry. He’d never had to do his own in the legion. He was so young and emotionally strained, that it had been enough to make him so embarrassed and frustrated he’d nearly cried._

_He hadn’t expected Tripta, his most outspoken challenger, to jump to his defence. But she had, and she was so stern and fierce and confident that the guy had scurried away. August opened his mouth to thank her, but she didn’t give him the chance._

_“You’re trying.” She reasserted. “And these machines are a nightmare.” And she took his laundry from him and showed him how to do it. That’s when August realised that they might be friends._

He thought about Hamish.

_“You don’t have to wait to be asked, y’know.”_

_“Huh?”_

_August tended to hang back a little and wait for someone to check that he was coming too. He didn’t want to assume and outstay his welcome. Before, he either did everything either with his cohort or with Jason. He was scared that they were only being polite, and were too nice to tell him to leave._

_But that night, Hamish dropped to the back of the group to walk with him._

_“You don’t have to wait to be invited to things. You’re our friend, so if you’re willing to put up with us then you’re always welcome to.”_

_“You, uh, noticed me doing that?”_

_Hamish shrugged._

_“Aye, well. I’m observant.”_

_“That makes one of us.”_

_“Clearly.” He’d smiled that kind, crooked smile of his “Your fly’s down.”_

He thought of Paul.

_“Do you want to talk about it?”_

_It was August’s birthday, and Paul had organised a party for him in the common room. It had been really nice, but he’d started thinking about his last birthday, and a life that was a world away now. He’d snuck away, so no one would see him upset._

_It wasn’t long before Paul had come and found him, crying behind the building. He didn’t comment on the party inside, or what August was doing there. He only asked,_

_“Do you want to talk about it?”_

_August had shaken his head, no._

_“Okay.”_

_So Paul had sat himself down beside August, on the cold, wet grass, for over an hour without saying another word. It had been comforting, just to have someone next to him._

He thought of Velia.

_“I think,” He’d told her once, “that all this would be easier if no one knew who I was before I was here.”_

_“Would it?” Velia had asked him, over her mug of tea. It had been the first of countless early mornings spent sitting on her bed talking about everything and nothing. “You’d have the same problems, but you wouldn’t be able talk about them properly. No one could really know you.”_

_“I guess.”_

_“Trust me. You can’t escape yourself. At least this way you get to be honest. Reckon who you were with who you are. You don’t have to carry it all around inside yourself.”_

_She’d gotten that all-knowing, unknowable look in her eyes then. August, meanwhile, had felt understood and a little reassured for the first time since he’d gotten here._

He thought of dozens of days out and nights in, good moments and bad ones, over the five years that he’d spent with these people. In the end it hadn’t been a difficult decision at all.

\---

Velia had told him once, that clothes were shorthand for how a person wants to be seen. He can’t remember what had started the conversation. Some comment about the Witches’ more eccentric style choices or asking why she always dressed nice even if she wasn’t leaving the camp. _Half of magic is perception_ , she’d added, _so_ _if I think I can do something, and I look like the type of person who could do it, then coming through isn’t such a big step. It applies to a lot of things, really._

At the time, he’d thought that was reading too much into old coats, fishnets, and embroidery. Now, as he agonised over an appropriate seance outfit, he could appreciate her point. Especially, he realised since the sweater it took him so long to decide on, would be hidden by his coat. It wasn’t as if he were a flashy dresser either. He was literally choosing between three sweaters. But he always got pedantic when he was nervous. 

He’d spent that morning on his own. He was too agitated to be around lots of people, and his friends all had work. Tripta, Paul and Velia all had work that day, so they couldn’t start until they were finished at four.

After lunch, he and Hamish had gone to a little clearing deeper in the woods, to dig a pit to put their dead-raising food in. They’d spent the afternoon digging. Neither were really in the mood to talk. Instead they listened to the inappropriate playlist that Tripta and Paul had made for the occasion.

Its songs included, _Staying Alive, Bye Bye Bye, Murder on the Dance Floor, You Raise Me Up_ , _Bring Me to Life_ , and a song by a woman named Norma Tanega simply titled _You’re Dead_. It was almost an hour before a pretty innocuous ballad started playing.

“This one doesn’t seem to bad.” August stopped digging for a second to listen. “What is it?”

“Uhm,” Hamish screwed up his face as he tried to remember. “Unchained Melody. By the Righteous Brothers.”

“It sounds pretty Familiar. I think I’ve heard Paul singing it?”

“Aye, well he likes the film, so that checks out.”

“It’s from a movie?”

“It’s the main track from the film Ghost.”

“Of course, it is.” August deadpanned.

They caught each other’s eyes and started cracking up, abandoning their digging to sit down on a log nearby and go through the other songs on the playlist, ranking them on how _bad_ they were for the situation. It all served to calm August down a little, keeping his mind away from what they were about to do. When he saw him, would Jason be mad? Disappointed? But joking around made it all seem less like a defiance of nature and more like normal teenage rebellion.

Paul dad had told them, once, that everything in life is a little bit funny, and you just had to let it be. Otherwise, life just _hurt._ There was a lot to be said for that. Messing around while things were going badly made them a lot easier to bare.

By the time the others got there with the bag of food, she sky had faded into a hazy, purple twilight. They made short work of pouring the tins of Chilli and Tomato Soup into their newly dug pit.

“Is that size okay?” August asked Velia.

When he’d asked her what size they’d need, she’d told him in that calm, crisp way of hers; _“About Grave sized. So there’s no spill over. It’s good for soil but bad for grass.”_

“It’s perfect.” She told him, her tone reassuring.

Over her black sweater and tights, Velia wore a dress with white butterflies sewn across it, as if they’d just landed on her. He knew that they were an omen of death, or a symbol of hope depending on who you asked. Her hair was clipped back off her face with pearl clips and everything about her screamed of confidence. She looked like someone capable of magic. Someone who could do this.

Once they’d poured some bottles of budget lemonade in over the food, Paul and Tripta moved back to sit on the log with Hamish, both wishing August luck as they passed him.

Velia took a few steps towards the pit and raised her hands. The fading daylight gave everything a sort of otherworldly glow.

“Are you ready to start?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“ _Well he ain’t getting any deader_ \- “He heard Tripta say. Paul hooted with laughter while Hamish shoved her off the log.

“I swear to god Trip, if you’re going to quote the Emperor’s New Groove you can leave.” Hamish was trying to sound stern, but he was struggling not to smile. She pulled herself back onto the seat.

“Sorry. Proceed!”

Briefly, Velia broke from her untouchable Witch persona, to give August a long-suffering smile. Then, she took a deep breath. Velia closed her eyes, raised her hands in front of her an began to chant.

As she spoke the air around them got a little colder. The twilight cast everything in a hazy purple glow. The words were in a language that August didn’t understand, probably Ancient Greek, which didn’t help to put him at ease. In Velia’s smooth, soft voice it sounded like a prayer, almost pretty. The contents of the pit began to fizz and melt into a white, murky liquid.

Slowly, spectres began to form around the edges of the clearing. They were white and featureless, as sheer as smoke. The hair on the back of August’s neck stand up. A sharp gasp from the log behind him let him know that he wasn’t the only one. As their forms became more tangible the spirits, now dozens of them, began to push forwards towards the pit.

“No!” August blurted out. “This isn’t- Stop!”

But Velia was unphased. When she held out her hand, like a traffic warden, the shades all stopped where they stood. With her other hand she traced the crowd of spectres as if she were searching for something, which was odd to watch since her eyes were resting shut.

Her hand stopped, pointing at some point in the crowd of spirits. She turned her hand to beckon with her pointer finger, all without opening her eyes. As she did, one of the spirits began moving towards Velia and the pit. It wasn’t like the spirits before, all scrambling and lurching to get to the front. It moved slowly and smoothly, like it was being pulled by a string.

Once it reached her, Velia made a light, lazy gesture with her other hand, like she was swatting at a fly buzzing around her. When she did, the spirits dissipated. Her eyes didn’t open.

The last spirit left, leaned down to the pit and after a moment of hesitation began to drink. As he did the spectre took on a clear form. A face. Defined fingers. Jeans and a tee shirt, and a pair of glasses. Short, light hair. But even as he started to speak, the spirit stared resolutely into the pit. 

“I thought you weren’t going to do this again, Nico. I’m really happy to see you, of course I am, but your dad was mad enough the last time, and besides – “

He stopped talking when he looked up to see Velia standing above him. For a split second her composure had cracked, and she looked almost _pained_ , but by the time Jason saw her, she’s regained her usual straight back and serene expression.

Even though it was deeper now, and sadness had given it a new weight, Augustus recognised that voice. August could only stare. Jason was only a shadow of his living self, but even that was so much more than the memory of him.

“Oh. You aren’t-”

“Not Quite.”

Jason moved to stand. “I’m so sorry. I thought you were my friend I wasn’t sure who else would...” His head turned to look at the woods behind Velia, clearly confused. “Why are…” He looked back to study her face. “Do I know you?”

She smiled. “No, we’ve never met. But we had some mutual friends. One of whom wants to speak to you.”

Jason turned around when Velia nodded towards August. When their eyes met, Jason stared blankly for a second, his brow furrowed. August could see the exact moment recognition struck him; his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. It was that same look that Bagshaw had at the funeral – as if August were the ghost.

The fear of having to explain himself had been a big part of the reason that August hadn’t wanted to go back to New Rome. Even if there were desperate to return, what could he say to explain these five years of life that he shouldn’t have gotten to the rigid, duty-bound Romans?

“Augustus?”

His name was all it took. August started to cry, in a way he only had twice before: when he’d learnt that he couldn’t go home to Jason, and when he’d watched him buried. Where before his grief had been in part for himself and the life he couldn’t lead anymore. This time, it was all for Jason.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I…What?” Jason kept staring like he was scared that August would disappear if he blinked, even as his words started gaining a frantic momentum. “I tried to find you, but you were gone - then I died and I couldn’t find you- “

“I wanted to go back, for a long time,” August rushed to explain himself, before Jason could start to hate him. “Someone from this other Camp was down in that same Labyrinth, and he saved me but it triggered this curse, uh, spell. This Celtic magic meant to protect people _from_ Rome. It made me invisible to everyone I knew, until Rome proved they were peaceful, which according to the spell was only recently. It might have broke when you returned that statue-“

“The Athena Parthenos?” Jason asked, doing his best to keep up with his rapid-fire story.

“-Yeah. And I’ve been here ever since. I know this sounds crazy, Jason, I’m so sorry.”

August braced himself for Jason to respond, to pass judgement. He wasn’t prepared to hear-

“The life I led; I’ve heard crazier. Is it nice?”

“Is it…”

“Nice. Yeah.“ Jason let his eyes drift back towards the trees, his voice wistful. “A camp full of Celts that rescues questers. Do you like it?”

“Oh.” August grappled to describe camp, as it was. Not the vague descriptions he used at College. “It’s…different. Everything’s sort of hodgepodge, uh, cheap and cheerful, my friend calls it. But everyone has their own room. It was weird at first. Having privacy. But I did.”

Before he’d come here August had always shared, first with Jason and then with a whole barrack.

“It’s green here.” August told him. It was obvious, but I felt like he had to comment since Jason’s eyes kept drifting back to those tall, tall trees. “but its wilder than in California. Like…” He thought of the grass growing over the blocks, the vines that grew over the main office, the paths worn into the grass by footsteps and time. “…Like we’re only here because nature lets us be.”

“We don’t train as much. Like, once you’ve learnt to fight it’s up to you to keep it up. But everyone eats together, and everyone works, like in building or cooking or teaching, or running an activity. I worked in the camp store and I helped coordinate timetables. And I went to school. All of us did. It’s in the town near here, and us Witches are only the only students. We walked there every morning, almost two hundred of us, like the march of the penguins. Now I’m at college.”

Jason smiled at that “I always said you were the smart one. What do you want to do afterwards?”

“I’m going to be a lawyer.” August said, proud for a moment. But looking into Jason’s earnest, interested face, the guilt came flooding back.

“Jason, I’m so sorry.”

But Jason only looked confused.

“Why do you keep apologising? You just told me that you didn’t leave or stay away on purpose. You’ve had a good life. What is there to be sorry for?”

“You just said it. I have a good life. I’m happy, and I have friends and goals and you- after everything you did you don’t deserve this!“

He wanted Jason to get mad at him. When they were younger, Jason had been the more outgoing. August always had a word of caution or a reason to hold back. August never used to yell much. Or cry. And now here he was doing both.

Now it was Jason who was calm.

“I made a choice Augustus, to die. It was me or the world. You would have done the same.”

“But I didn’t have to. All of it. When you toppled Saturn’s throne, I was writing schedules and budgeting for welcome packs, for the Half-bloods who’d survived his army. When you were on the Argo II, I was studying for exams. It isn’t fair that I get to be the one who lives!”

Jason blinked at that, confused all over again. “You kept tabs on me?”

“Oh.” He tried to calm himself enough give Jason the explanation he deserved. “This place, it’s not just Celts. It’s anyone whose gods don’t protect them. A lot of Greeks and Romans who run away wind up here. They want to keep track of the people left behind. Me especially. Some of us went to your funeral.”

Jason seemed to accept that simplified explanation. If anything, he looked kind of touched. “Who is We?”

“Uh, Greg Dimeson, Cam Carter, Andy Jerice, Mary Cooper-“

“Mary Cooper is alive?” Jason cut in; his smile having crept back.

“Mary Cooper is in charge. I got here and I didn’t recognise her. She’s a powerful witch. Went on a tone of adventures and got elected as a Witch Mother- that’s like, the top role here. She’s the _you_ of this place.”

That made Jason laugh. If ghosts could blush, he probably would have. “Whatever you call her, Octavian must be rolling in his grave.”

“I hope so. She sends her love, though. She spoke at your funeral, about how highly she thinks of you.”

“Oh.” Jason took a second to grapple with that. “But I barely knew her. I didn’t help her.”

August shook his head. “You were kind. That was what mattered.”

He gave a dry laugh like he didn’t quite believe him. For the first time Jason seemed a little bitter.

“But doesn’t it prove my point, Augustus? How can you be sorry when, you kept checking in on me even when I couldn’t know you were there. Shouldn’t I be the one apologising to you, for letting you do that? My sacrifice was prophesied. But yours? It was completely selfless and it was only for my sake.”

August shook his head. 

“You would have don’t the same.”

“But I didn’t.”

“Only because you didn’t think of it first.”

“Like I said,” A smile played on Jason’s lips. “You were always the smart one.”

That got a laugh out of August. He was right, that Jason had a similar dry sense of humour to Velia’s. But Jason kept on laughing, for long enough for August to worry that he’d somehow traumatised his ghost brother.

When Jason finally stopped, he told august,

“I’m sorry I just…we ended up with each other’s lives, Augustus.”

“Huh?”

“Well, I said I wanted to prove myself, without depending on Jupiter’s legacy or the good graces of the legion. Here you are, doing exactly that. Making your own way.”

August nodded, seeing where he was going with this.

“And you were Praetor.”

“I was Praetor.” Jason confirmed. “I did great deeds and died a Heroes death.”

“And I’m sorry that it fell to you.”

But Jason only shook his head, somehow even more certainly than before. Maybe he’d imagianed it, but for a second his form seemed a little stronger.

“Augustus, if anyone has to apologise that it should be…Bacchus, for sending us to get that Leopard when Saturn was rallying an Army forty miles away. Or Apollo, for blessing Octavian. Or Jupiter for everything. Not You.”

Jason Reached out to August, but he only passed through him, like a hologram.

“I’m glad someone saved you. From _everything_. I’m just sorry that it couldn’t be me, Og.”

Og was a nickname that he hadn’t heard in years. It had come about because Augustus was one hell of a name for a five-year old, raised by wolves to pronounce. He reached up to touch his own face, on the spot that Jason had tried to reach.

“And I’m sorry that only one of us could be saved.”

“Well don’t be. You made the most of it. I’m glad that it was you.”

They stood there for a minute, taking each other in. Jason’s hair was a little longer now, in this form than it had been when they were kids. His face was sharper and his eyes were sad. Even like this, pale and transparent, you could make out the scar on his upper lip. Jason couldn’t remember getting it, so the two of them would make up wild origin stories when he was asked about it. Their favourite was that he’d gotten it by strangling snakes in his cradle, like Hercules.

“So. What now?”

Jason shrugged.

“I rest in peace, I guess. It’s good, in the Isles of the Blessed. I’ve got friends, and I have time. I’ve never had time before. I think I’ll stick around there. See where everyone ends up. How about you and your friends…?”

Jason’s voice trailed off as he whipped around to face Velia, panicked. In comparison, Velia was almost comically calm, giving Jason a tight smile and a wave. That she was leaning a little heavier on her cane and the light sheen of sweat on her forehead, despite the bitter cold, were the only signs that she was doing anything even vaguely strenuous. 

Still, Jason asked her, “Are you okay? My friend- I know this can take a lot of energy. Are you-?”

“I’m very good at this.” Velia told him. She didn’t say it in a cocky way. Just as a statement of fact. A reassurance. reassuring. “I’ll be fine. Take as long as you need.”

It was as good as an opener as ever, August supposed.

“This,” he told Jason. “is Velia Parker. My friend. This was all her idea, so that I could talk to you one last time. So was going to your funeral. She’s,” He choked up a little bit, “a really good friend.”

“Thankyou.” Jason told her. They said a lot, for two words

“It’s what friends are for, isn’t it? You both deserved this; from what I gather you’re a good one. I’m happy to help.” She said, like the decision to defy death was a very straight-forwards one.

“Still. thank you.” Jason took her in for a second. “I know I mistook you before, but you do sort of remind me of someone.”

“Huh.” Velia’s voice bordered on disinterest. “One of those faces I suppose. And this light tricks the eye.”

But Jason shook his head. “Something about your eyes…”

Before He could dwell on that too much, Paul was there. “Our whole family has brown eyes. You going to introduce the rest of us, August?”

He laughed, beckoning his other three friends over.

“This is Hamish, legacy of Hermes. He knows everything.” Hamish snorted, but didn’t argue, nodding to Jason, “Tripta, daughter of Vulcan. She keeps us right.” Tripta gave one of those grins that split her face wide open, despite there being tear tracks on her cheeks, and gave a little wave. “And Paul. My brother.”

“Of the Greek persuasion.” Paul chipped in, reaching out to shake Jason’s hand, then pulling it back embarrassed. “I grew up here.” _I belong here,_ he meant by it. “We’re all kind of family.”

Jason took a second to take them all in. Their personalities spilling into their appearances, be that the paperback in Hamish’s ’s pocket, Tripta’s yellow coat thrown over her oil-stained overalls, and the safety pins and patches that held Paul’s jeans together. They didn’t look much like the people that orderly, serious Augustus had gravitated towards in New Rome.

“It’s very nice to meet you.” Jason said, his voice warm and sincere. He leaned into August. “You’ve been in Good Hands then?”

“The best.”

“Good.” He paused. “Could I ask you something, before I go? A favour.”

August didn’t have to think. “Anything.”

“You know what happened to me, these past few years, right? Well, when I got my memories back, I wasn’t back there long. I only Bagshaw once or twice. It was always kind of stilted between us, after you…we both blamed ourselves. But since I’d changed so much that year, it was _really_ awkward. I put off dealing with it, and then it was too late. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye” Jason winced, “Looking back, I regret it.”

“I’d have done the same.” August confessed. “I mean, I basically did do the same.”

“Yeah?” Jason asked him, guilt and pain written over his face. “But you still have time, Og. I’m not telling you to go back, but if you ever decide to, will you tell him I’m sorry? I should have tried harder, but I thought I had time. And thank him, for everything he did for us. For caring. I cared about him too.”

“I promise.”

“Okay. Good.”

Yet again, they stood taking in the versions of each other that they’d never had the chance to know. It was a snapshot of who Jason had gotten to be, and a glimpse of what August could become.

“So. This is it then.”

“It must be.” August wasn’t sure when he’d started crying. He didn’t think that Jason _could_ cry in this form, but the look on his face was gut-wrenching enough without.

“I wish…I could hug you.” Jason said, between heavy breaths.

“I wish you could be hugged.”

They’d never been this sentimental, growing up together. They’d been too busy playing soldier.

As he lamented that, the faint Glow surrounding Jason dimmed slightly. August thought that it was starting to pass back to the other side. But his form didn’t fade. If anything, he looked more solid than a second before. Almost solid enough to…

August lifted his hand to touch Jadon’s shoulder. It didn’t pass through.

Everyone turned to face Velia with wide eyes. It was only now that she seemed to feel the strain of her magic. Her whole body almost vibrated with Power; every muscle tensed like a coiled spring. Her face had gone pale. Her eyes were so dark you couldn’t tell her pupils from her irises. He hadn’t known that this was possible, and from the look on his face nor had Jason.

“She’s very good.” Jason echoed Velia’s own words from before. Augustus was inclined to agree.

The look that she gave him was enough to tell August that he didn’t have long.

He threw his arms around Jason, his first friend, and held him tightly, knowing that it was the last time. Jason was cold, and August couldn’t feel a heartbeat or a pulse. There was no illusion of life. Still, it was comforting. It was Jason.

“I love you. Very much.” August told him. “ _My friend.”_ Those last words came out as a sigh.

“Thank you.” Jason murmured into his ear. No breath accompanied his words. “I love you too. And I hope, I won’t see you again for a very long time.”

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

They didn’t let go of one another. Even as Jason began to fade away. His form got thinner and thinner, until August was left with his arms full of air.

His tears still fell, but at some point August had started to smile.

It was a strange feeling; grief and joy bound together by pure relief. Jason hadn’t hated him. They were at peace with one another. And, although he didn’t know when or how, one day he would go back to America, and make his peace with Bagshaw too.

When Paul carefully took his hand, August surprised them both by collapsed into him, hugging him from the side. They both turned together when they heard a gasp, and a startled _Oh!_ from behind them.

Velia had almost collapsed, only been caught from stumbling into the pit by Tripta. Hamish abandoned gathering up their things, to run and check she was okay, but Velia gestured him not to bother with a weak hand. She looked very different to the girl commanding ghosts less than an hour ago.

“I stretched myself, towards the end.” She said, her voice soft and slurring slightly. “I just need to sleep. I’ll be fine.”

He took Velia’s hand. Giving it a gentle squeeze. It was cold. Hamish shucked off his jacked and tucked it around her shoulders.

“We’d best get back.” He suggested, gently. “It’s dark out.”

Trip pulled a flashlight out of her, seemingly bottomless overall pocket, and made sure Velia’s arm was secure around her shoulder.

“Thankyou.” August told Velia, as Hamish took her other arm. She smiled, but her eyes looked a million miles away. He wasn’t sure he could understand what went on in her head, even if she ever told him.

He’d found his peace. A peace that, until now, he didn’t realise he’d been missing. As sceptical as he usually was about signs and symbols, after tonight, when he found a white butterfly flitting about outside his door back at camp he couldn’t help but to see it as a sign.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, theres no Percy in this Chapter, but no worries, he'll be back next week. Instead we got to spend some time with our other Canon protagonist, best boy. Have I characterised him properly? Please tell me because I don't know.  
> The description of the dead-raising is very much inspired by that from the titans curse, except rather than being done by a self-taught, frantic twelve year old, its being done by a trained, eerily calm eighteen year old. Oh Velia. - I don't think even she knew she could do that last part. It'll make sense later.  
> Join us next week, when we learn what Percy was up to while all this went on. Itll be a shorter one, because things are starting to happen faster now, in both the story and real life.   
> Sorry this was up so late! my writing style is pretty long winded (believe me, I was not planning for this to have 5k chapters on average or to be anywhere near this long) and i'm getting busier so little delays are only natural.  
> Thanks so much for reading this far! And hey, if you have then you might as well leave a comment, right? you've spent this much time. And definetly Kudos!  
> Untill next week! Keep well! X


	15. The High Priestess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Very Late and I'm very sorry! Just so you know, the update date has been changed to friday, and since my life is starting to speed up again, a little, there may be two week waits some weeks, especially as the story reaches its climax! Xx

**THE HIGH PRIESTESS**

_Mystery, Inner Voice, Higher Power_

PERCY

While yesterday’s big battle had been trying to fight a horse, today’s battle was with the burly guy who ran Inverness Marina. Thanks to Ewan the boat had taken some damage, and the city they were heading to next wasn’t coastal, so they were doing this next leg of the journey overland. Anathema, the old Witch who’d set them off on this journey, had warned them that the Witch’s town was only on regional maps and bus routes. That meant they’d have make it to the nearest city and make their way from there.

Their first problem was that the _Beloved_ was way bigger than anything the marina was built for, so it had taken a lot of manoeuvring to get it docked. Then there was the matter of payment, since they were three kids under twenty-one who only had US currency. It took all their persuasion, some mist manipulation, and a call to Piper (charm speak was a blessing) for the guy to take their money and let them leave the boat there.

They even managed to get the guy to give them directions to the city’s visitors centre, a half-hour’s walk away. As they walked the dull, grey dock area gave way to historic stone buildings. Annabeth’s bad mood from last night lifted a little as she stopped to read out all the little blue plaques that marked out a heritage trail and pointed out the details in the local architecture. Even the cold, grey weather couldn’t distract from beautiful city, or the way Annabeth’s interest made her face light up.

Once there, Annabeth (they’d agreed it should be her, since between the fifteen year-old punk and the skater-boy she looked the least like a trouble-maker) had gone to the information desk and launched into a sob story. She told the woman working there that their plane had been diverted, and they were too young to rent a car and they didn’t have much money. She had lapped it up and was so helpful that Percy almost felt bad about the lie, as the lady told them about her daughter who was their age, studying abroad. She even went so far as to let them use her computer to book seats on a service called the Megabus.

While this was going on, Percy’s focus drifted. There was only one other person in the centre who’d arrived after Percy and his friends. They couldn’t see much of his face, since he wore a long, grey military coat with a high collar, a scarf and a pair of aviator sunglasses which hid his eyes completely. Weird, since they were indoors, and it wasn’t exactly bright outside. He was holding a guidebook open in front of him, but he wasn’t turning its pages.

He nudged Thalia about to tell her to look at this guy, but as soon as he turned to speak to her the bell above the door rang. A family with young kids entered, and the man in grey had slid out the door behind him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He muttered. “There was a shady looking guy standing there before, but he left.”

The two of them shuffled to the front of the store to give the family space to wait at the desk. Their youngest kid, a boy with floppy brown hair, was around Estelle’s age. He stood staring at Percy his thumb in his mouth, so Percy stuck his tongue out at him. The boy’s eyes went wide for a second before he laughed, and made the face back at Percy. As Annabeth moved away from the desk, the family took her place, pulling the little boy forwards with them. For a moment, Percy ached for home.

Annabeth came forwards brandishing her cell-phone. They didn’t usually switch them on since they attracted monsters, but Annabeth explained:

“They’re e-tickets. The bus leaves at nine tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Thalia said, worried. It was already the eighteenth. “Is that the soonest we could leave?” 

“Yeah. Apparently, there’s a rail strike, plus the trains were expensive. This bus doesn’t run every day, and it’s a seven-hour trip, but it’s cheap and its direct so we should get to this camp by tomorrow night.”

“Still, is there nothing- “

“ _No_.” Annabeth hissed. “I might not have done much this week, but I think I can read a fucking train schedule.”

They weren’t speaking loud enough to grab attention, but the flash of anger surprised them both. Percy had never seen Annabeth snap at Thalia before and judging by the look on her face, neither had she. That made sense, he guessed. As a little kid, Annabeth had idolised Thalia. Then they’d been peers for a little bit, and fought together as equals, but never been in a high-stress situation like a quest before.

Knowing that Annabeth had seemed upset last night, he didn’t take her anger personally and thankfully Thalia didn’t either. After that initial glint of defensive anger, concern took over.

“Annabeth-“

“I’m sorry. For snapping.” Annabeth muttered. “I… it doesn’t matter. The point is, we’ve got a full day to kill before we can even try to find this girl. What now?”

Percy thought about Annabeth’s comment about not having done much. His brain rain through a dozen things she might mean by it, but he knew Annabeth well enough to know to leave it for now. She found it hard enough to talk about her feelings, to admit vulnerability. Like with Thalia, she’d tell him when she was ready. So instead, he reached back to the display of pamphlets behind him.

“You tell us- right Thalia?”

“Yeah. Whatever weird old buildings you like.”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow, staring them down for a minute like she was trying to figure out their motives, before letting a smile flit across her face.

“If you insist.”

The Girl

It was a beautiful night, cold and crisp. Her breath formed white wisps in the air. It wouldn’t be long before it snowed, hopefully; she’d always liked how the snow made everything look new again. For now though, the night was clear. The new moon was barely a sliver in the sky leaving the girl alone with the stars. In her humble opinion, that was the best kind of night and why she'd wrapped herself up in her blanket, despite the cold and how faint she still felt, to stand outside her door and look up.

 _“_ Oscar Wilde said that, _we are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars._ ”

With her head in the stars, she hadn’t noticed Hamish approach. Of course, he'd know that she was out here. He knew _her._

“It’s a nice quote.”

“Wilde knew his stuff.”

He came to lean by her side, close enough to her that she had to crane her neck to see his face properly. Watching him out of the corner of her eyes, she could tell that he was building up to something. He kept catching his bottom lip between her teeth and rubbing his thumb over his forefinger. She wondered what Hamish noticed when he looked at her.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“Sorry, I’ll have to finish running this marathon another night.”

Hamish huffed an exasperated laugh. “You know what I mean. Off your feet. In the warm, maybe?”

“Well, you could help with one of those.”

“I’ll go get your chair then.”

“Hamish.” She raised an eyebrow, calling his bluff. He chuckled.

She wasn’t usually this bold. He put an arm around her, and she threw one end of her blanket up over his shoulder to cover them both. He was right; it did make her feel a little better to be warmer.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Hm?”

“C’mon. I can hear your brain ticking. What you did today would set anyone’s head spinning. Especially you, doing this today of all days.”

“What’s-“ Velia was confused for a second until it hit her. “Fuck, is it the eighteenth already?”

She’d been so worried about getting this done before the solstice that she’d forgotten. Hamish looked completely dumbfounded.

“It honestly didn’t occur to you?”

“Believe it or not, I’d forgotten. Gods, no wonder you thought I was doing this because of my personal stuff.”

Five years ago, today, Velia had died.

Well, she hadn’t _been_ Velia yet. She’d chosen that name three days later once she’d woken up. For those days in-between, before she’d opened her eyes, she’d been no-one at all.

It was a testament to how much was on her mind, that she’d managed to forget.

Hamish didn’t comment. He only gave her shoulder a light squeeze.

“I’m sorry, again, for what I said. It was a nice thing that you did for August. It was _brave_.”

He knew he was only saying that because of what they’d seen- what she’d done- at that ranch. She wanted to argue that it wasn’t and that it hadn’t distressed her, but she couldn’t lie. Not to Hamish. When Jason had first spoken to her, not realising who was stood above him, she’d almost wept for both of their sakes. Besides, tonight was the kind of night that inspired honesty.

“I was motivated by curiosity too, a little bit.” 

“Curious if it would work?”

“No.” Between the dreams, the funeral, and her own abilities, Velia had known that the summoning would work. “I know how many times our paths almost crossed, and what we owe each other, and he never will. I wanted to meet him.”

Despite the spiderweb of links between them, what she knew about Jason Grace had been learnt in snippets from Augustus or the other one-time Romans, all of which were either old or impersonal memories of the guy. It wasn’t until after she’d fallen, leaving Hamish to hide out in the Argo II’s stables and protect what she couldn’t that she could picture him as a real person.

“Makes sense.” Hamish assured her. “What did you think of him?”

“I liked him.” She said, simply and honestly. The two most common things she’d heard about Jason were that he was brave, and he was kind. That seemed to be true, but no one had mentioned he’d a touch of cynicism, or how sharp he was behind his immaculate manners. Maybe that was what Augustus meant when he said that she and Jason would have gotten along.

She sighed. “What a waste.”

Hamish let out a low hum of agreement.

A white butterfly that had been resting between she and August’s doors had started to flutter around a little. Velia assumed it was an omen, but for what? Maybe it had sensed what she’d just done. That death smell tended to linger. Or maybe it was something to come. It was only three days until the solstice. There were only so many times that a person could fight the odds and win, even if this were something she could fight.

They were standing so still that the butterfly settled on the path a foot away from them, lazily flapping its wings. Hamish seemed as fixated on it as she was.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Huh? Oh. I was thinking about the butterfly effect.” When he saw her blank look, he continued. “It’s the idea that something as insignificant as butterfly flapping its wings could cause a hurricane two weeks later. How the smallest change in initial conditions, can change everything further along the line.”

“Oh, like _Sliding Doors.”_ It was Hamish’s turn to look blank at that. Velia explained. “It’s a movie that follows two different timelines. One where Gwyneth Paltrow misses her train and one where she doesn’t. I watched it with Paul.”

The number of 90’s rom-coms she’d watched with Paul would have horrified her younger self. Hamish laughed.

“Aye, that kind of thing.”

“Is that what you believe then?” She turned to face him, suddenly curious. “Fate, destiny, prophesy, all of that is irrelevant thanks to free will and split-second decisions?”

Hamish shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s both, working together.” He turned face her. “Think about all the tiny things had to happen, in and beyond out control, for us to meet how and when we did.”

He was right. There were a thousand random chances and bad decisions that had led them both here, culminating in two of their own. But she knew if she spent her time dwelling over what she could have done differently then she’d drive herself insane. She’d done what she could. That would have to be enough now.

So, she hummed in agreement, not sure how to articulate everything that was going on in her mind. Velia felt an ache where her leg used to be. She knew it was in her head, but it didn’t feel like it.

What could she say to him? She stopped telling her friends about her dreams, once she’d heard the prophesy. Seeing Jason Grace had only emphasised to her that she was right not to. Some endings were inevitable. She would take as long as she had, and then hopefully (if she agreed to go with them) she could slip away quietly in the night. It would hurt the least that way, she thought, so long as she could leave them with some kind of closure. But drawn out farewells, fights, attempts to stop her would only hurt them all.

So that left the question: How do you say goodbye to the four most important people in your life, without them knowing you were leaving? She didn’t know, but she owed it to them to try.

“It all makes me think,” She started. “About how easy it is for things to go unsaid. How rare that we get to go out on our own terms. I need to tell you-“

“Don’t try telling me goodbye, Velia.”

He knew her well.

He didn’t look at her when he said it, but his voice was tight from keeping back emotion. She took that time to take him in. He was about a foot taller than her, and at least twice as broad. His murky hazel eyes, crooked nose, and rugged jawline, all covered with an even smattering of freckles. They weren’t conventionally handsome features, like Paul and August had, but she was partial to them if only because they were his.

She shook her head. “Never.”

They never said goodbye. It invited finality, Hamish always said. It was always _until next time_ or _see you soon._

“I wanted to say thank you. Thanks for a good time.”

That startled a bark of laughter out of Hamish. He turned back to look at her, with that impossibly soft look on his face.

“We’ve had fun, haven’t we?”

And they both settled into each other, heads propped back against the wall so they could look at the sky. She thought another one of Hamish’s quotes. She thought it was Shakespeare, but she couldn’t tell you where it came from beyond that:

“Doubt thou the stars are fire;  
Doubt that the sun doth move;  
Doubt truth to be a liar;  
But never doubt I love.”

PERCY

It had been a good day, in the end. They’d gone to Inverness castle that morning, where they’d been able to climb to the top of a tower to get a view of the city.

As they climbed the stairs, Percy had grabbed her hand, like he always did when they were at a height.

“In case we slip.”

After his fall from the Gateway arch, Annabeth’s fall over the cliff at Westover Hall, and Tartarus, their precedence for falling from heights on quests had turned into a running joke. For all Annabeth rolled her eyes, she always squeezed his hand right back. Percy knew that she thought it was cute. Usually it was a little moment between the two of them, but Thalia had taken Annabeth’s other hand, claiming it was because she didn’t trust Percy to catch her. Really, he suspected that it was because Thalia was afraid of heights, so he didn’t argue. It had been a cool castle, and a great view.

After that they’d spent most of the day wandering around the City’s museum and art gallery, all about Scottish history and local wildlife. While it wouldn’t have been Percy’s first choice of activity, it was free entry, it was warm, and he’d admit that some of the exhibits were interesting. At the very least his mom and Paul would be impressed that he’d done something so educational when left to his own devices, and Estelle would be impressed with the Plushie loch-ness monster he’d gotten her in the gift shop.

The only spot on the day was that, as they left the museum, Percy could have sworn that he saw the man in grey, from the visitor’s centre, lurking by the exit of the museum. He did a double take, but when he looked back the guy was gone again. Maybe he was paranoid. He was a long way from home, and it had been a calm few day. That made him jumpy.

Despite his nerves, once they were back to the _Beloved_ that night, Percy had been more than ready to sleep. The second mattress had dried, so Percy wouldn’t have to share a bed that night. Thank god. While it would have been nice to sleep holding Annabeth, sleeping top-and-tails with Thalia and her freezing cold feet wasn’t an experience he’d ever want to repeat.

Slowly, he’d gotten used to dredging up his memories. While some brought nightmares, some of these dreams were almost nice, reminding him that there were better times ahead. Of course, whenever he thought about Velia, being able to see them too, it felt more like watching an old home movie with a stranger. Hopefully, her seeing him as a dumb twelve-year-old might help her see him as less of a threat. But then again, at their worst… they weren’t reassuring.

Tonight, he dreamed of his eighteenth birthday. He’d spent the day at home with his family, and then that evening Annabeth had planned for them to go for a nice dinner, to celebrate them both technically being adults now. With her hair down, wearing a dark blue dress, she’d looked beautiful. He was glad that his mom had the foresight to take a picture of them before they’d left the apartment, because they’d been walking for all of ten minutes before everything went wrong. 

Eight blocks from his house, they’d ran into a dragon. Because why not?

Since it was only ripping up garbage bags and swallowing pigeons whole, they’d considered just leaving it be. Then it had melted a fire hydrant, almost flooding their street.

Suffice to say they’d missed their reservation.

So an hour later, once the dragon had been defeated and the fire department had come to check out the scene, they’d wound up buying their dinner from a taco truck. That’s was the scene that Percy saw in his dream. The two of them sat on a wall, eating with their hands; sweaty dirty and happy.

Percy’s mouth had been full of beef and peppers when had Annabeth turned to him with an apologetic smile.

“Okay, so I know this wasn’t what we planned but maybe we should be thanking our bad luck, because these are _great.”_

Percy made enthusiastic noise of agreement as he ate. He’d been to that place a bunch of times since- they were _good_ burritos. Annabeth gave him a fond look, leaned in close… and picked a stray piece of lettuce off his chin.

“Happy Birthday, Seaweed Brain.”

In the chaos, he’d almost forgotten. When she reminded him, all of the complicated emotions that surrounded Percy’s birthday hit him like a truck. It only made him hesitate for a split-second. Unless you knew him well, the flash of pain that crossed his face was imperceptible. Annabeth saw it.

She stopped him as he leaned in to kiss her, placing her hand on his chest, over his heart.

“What is it?”

“What’s what?”

She leaned back, her eyes going from soft to steel as she took him in.

“What’s the matter, Percy? You’re no good at hiding when you’re upset. Not from me. Spill it.”

She almost sounded a little proud as she’d said _not from me._ No wonder she’d been so hurt earlier this week, that she hadn’t noticed anything off about Perfect as he didn’t tell them about their dreams.

“It’s-” Percy watched himself turn away from her gaze, staring at nothing across the street. “It’s my birthday. Its years two since I turned sixteen. And everything else that happened that day”

Two years since dozens of half-bloods had died defending this very city. Two years since he’d given Luke Castellan that knife, letting him pay the price for his actions. Two years since he’d turned down immortality. He was only here today, happy and in love, because all those terrible things happened. Like he said, his birthday brought up complicated feelings.

He watched Annabeth take his hand and rest her head on his shoulder.

“I hadn’t thought about it like that _._ I try not to think about it, as a rule.” _Luke._ She didn’t say his name, but Percy knew by now. “I’m sorry. For dragging you out like this.”

That had made him laugh, which maybe wasn’t the best move after his girlfriend had just apologised. He rushed to explain.

“You didn’t _drag_ me. The way you look tonight I’d have followed you anywhere. Willingly.” Annabeth flushed at that.

“Look _ed.”_ She muttered, a little bitterly, looking down at a rip on the hem of her dress.

“Nope, still.” He threaded his arm over her back and held her a little closer. “And I wouldn’t trade this for the world.”

 _This_ could have meant a lot of things. That night, as badly as it had gone: the girl in his arms or the mortal life that he’d chosen two years ago. He wouldn’t have had it any other way.

As she leaned in to kiss him, the image melting away. 

While he could enjoy re-living his own private moments, he couldn’t get used to watching Velia’s. It felt intrusive. Maybe she felt the same.

He saw Velia stumble from a dark corner, pulling Hamish with her. Considering what Percy had seen her do, it figured that Velia would be able to Shadow travel. Both were laughing and trying not to trip each other up.

Over her dark pin-stripe pants and shirt, Velia wore a pearl necklace, which started out as a choker but then almost turned into a sash, with about five long strings of pearls starting at her neck and crossing her body, under her arm. She looked every bit the modern sorceress out on the town, which Percy assumed was what she wood.

“That,” Hamish said, pacing around her and grinning. “Was spectacular.”

Velia looked at him, bemused. “Really? That’s the word you’re going with?”

“Oh, I’m not denying that it was a mess.” Hamish assured her, “Especially with the haunted taxidermy. And with that wizard I pushed down the stairs. And It’s a good job we used alias’s because otherwise we would _definitely_ be removed from their mailing list, but _gods_ it was fun.”

In his time, Percy had been some strange places. He’d visited Circe’s island and _Atlantis_ for gods’ sake. But still, he had no clue where those two could have just been.

Hamish had the face and the frame of a prize fighter, which was a big contrast to the way he bounced on his heels and grinned like a little kid. While it wasn’t as obvious Velia’s was just as elated: swinging her arms by her sides and biting her lip as if to stop herself from grinning.

“Definitely fun” Velia’s agreed. “The death day I’ve ever had, by a long shot.” 

Ah, so that was the link between the memories. Velia had lost someone on that day. Someone important by the way they were acting.

Hamish’s eyes grew wide for a second and he looked concerned. “I’m so sorry, I hadn’t realised that it was already- “

“Don’t be silly. I wouldn’t have come unless I wanted to take my mind off it, and you said it yourself- it was fun. Last year, we were the only ones in so I ended up watching Xanadu with Paul. _That_ was the most painful experience in my recent memory. “

“Huh.” Hamish said, his smile creeping back. “Well it's nice to know I’m better time than Olivia Newton John on Roller-skates.”

"So you've seen it?"

"God no," Hamish told her. "But I'm friends with Paul, so I've heard about it. In detail. I can believe that this would be the better experience. Honestly, I almost don't mind that we didn't manage to steal back that stone. We had- wait, so Xanadu was worse than that year where Eilidh Morris got possessed by that demon?"

What even was this camp? What was this movie? 

“Oh, any day.” Velia said, completely certain. "It only took an hour, and I got a thank you note for my troubles, neither of which I can say for watching Xanadu. And you beat them both, hands down."

Hamish flushed, a little bashful as Velia looked up at him, her eyes lit up with mischief. “And who's to say we didn't manage to steal that stone back.”

“Howd’you mean?”

She pulled a velvet case out of her pants pocket. Hamish’s eyes went wide, and he paused for a second, before lifting Velia by the waist and spinning her in the air.

“Thank god we found you that night- You are _sublime."_

When he put her down again, they were standing just a breath too close. Percy knew where this went. He waited for one of them to close the distance to kiss, but neither of them did.

“I wish…” said Hamish, his voice wasn’t much more than a whisper.

“I know.” Velia spared him from finishing the sentence, her voice just as sad and soft. “Me too.”

So instead Hamish stepped back and offered her his arm like a gentleman in an old movie. Velia laughed as she took it, and together the pair of them walked into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was that! Sorry again about the wait! And that this chapter is very dialogue heavy!  
> As we see, Percy and Velia's parallels are still going strong, and even when Velia gets to tell her own story, she's a secretive disaster mess! This is the last we're going to here from her before she and Percy meet, so hopefully all of her vague nonsense will come together soon. Straight up, her reveal comes its going to set a lot of things we've read in a new light!  
> I would like to thank Google Maps for my information about the beautiful city of Inverness- it seems like a beautiful place and my only regret is that I couldn't include in the main text that the city has a statue of a unicorn in it.  
> Hamish's Quotes are From Lady Windemere's fan by Oscar Wilde, and Hamlet by Shakespeare!  
> As per usual, if you've made it this far in the story then please, read and subscribe!


	16. The Chariot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Chariot- Determination, Willpower, Controll  
> I'm really sorry but there was a formatting error on this chapter when I uploaded it onto my own laptop, which I didn't so I've had to upload it again, hoping that straightens it out. No one said, so I don't think this effected others? please let me know! Also comments and kudos, thankyou!

**THE CHARIOT**

_Determination, Willpower, Control_

PERCY

It turned out that there was nothing all that Mega about the Megabus. When he’d heard the name Percy had hoped it was maybe a little fancy, or at least had some leg room. Unfortunately, it was basically a crowded Greyhound bus. It was a step down from the Beloved, yeah, but they fit in with the students onboard, heading home for Christmas. With their bags at their feet, it felt almost like they were going on a field trip.

Waiting to start moving, Percy filled Thalia and Annabeth in on his dream from last night. It hadn’t been anything revealing or threatening, but the little details that Hamish and Velia had peppered into the conversation had been wild enough that it made them smile.

“If she doesn’t try to kill us she might even be fun.” Thalia said, but then suddenly became serious. “So our game plan is; we meet her, get her to tell us _what we would know_ or whatever that line was, and then bring August back to face trial.”

Percy nodded. He kept forgetting about August, since everything else seemed to be leading him to Velia. At least the words of the prophesy guaranteed him some answers.

“Who would want to try him though?” Thalia continued, her mind still on Augustus. “I don’t want to do that to someone Jason cared about, if he’s not done anything worse than deserting the legion, or befriending traitors or whatever. But then, people change. He could have done something else.”

Annabeth scrunched up her face in thought. 

“Well it only says trial, right? _On Solstice return with the loved one thought lost, to face trial for a life made of lies which shall cost._ It doesn’t say that he’ll be convicted. That’s assuming the prophesy is even referring to August. “I mean, it could be any number of kids who left camp. Like, Anathema who we met, who wouldn’t make our mom a tapestry, or maybe it’s this Mary Cooper, or those two girls who Percy dreamed about running away with Ethan-”

“Anushka Kaminsky or Megan Gisbert,” Thalia told them. “Reyna found them in the camp records. Fuck. You’re right. I mean, I’d assume it was Velia but we asked everyone at camp if they knew her, or anyone who matched the description that Percy gave us. Nothing.”

Percy guessed she had a point. Even if she’d used an Alias, while dark hair and eyes were common enough features, her dark vintage clothes and her handicap would have been well noted by someone who knew her well enough to have loved her.

“Whatever it is, whoever it is, I’m sure it’ll be obvious once we’re there. The prophesy says that she’ll tell us what we want to know.” Percy tried to keep his voice positive and confident, but even to his own ears it fell a little flat. After all, prophesies always had room for interpretation.

Finally, the bus pulled out of the station. It was going to be a long seven hours. Even though it was so cold out, the bus was stuffy belief. The last passenger to board was still standing as they started moving, sending him stumbling down the aisle as the bus turned into traffic. He righted himself and sat down near the front of bus, but not before Percy had the chance to recognise him.

It was the man from the Visitors centre.

He wasn’t wearing his hat anymore, but his sunglasses and his long military coat were the same. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and between that, the coat and his cropped, silver flat top, the guy looked like a retired drill sergeant. Still, just enough of his face was covered that Percy couldn’t place it. However he knew him, it lined Percy’s gut became heavy with dread.

“Percy?”

“Sorry.” He’d completely missed what Annabeth had asked him.

“Percy, what’s wrong?”

He pointed out the man.

“I saw him at the visitors centre yesterday, and then again maybe outside the museum. He looks familiar.” Or at least he would, if he weren’t facing the window with his face buried in his collar. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence.”

“We’re too unlucky for that kind of coincidence.” Thalia muttered, studying the back of the man’s head. “He’s kind of familiar. I’d hoped it was just me.”

Somehow that didn’t make him feel better. He turned back to Annabeth.

“What were you asking me before?”

“What are they like?” She said. “August. Velia. Mary, even. Anyone who seems important.”

Percy hummed as he tried to string together all the fragments of these people that he’d seen, into something cohesive.

He to explain how Augustus had seemed a little unsure and standoffish when he was younger, so he didn’t think he’d gone there deliberately. How, as he grew up he acted as though he were longsuffering or aloof, but it was obvious he genuinely cared about his friends. About how the funeral made it obvious that even after all this time he still cared about Jason.

He barely knew anything about Mary other than that she had strong morals and she lived by them, and that she felt things deeply. Enough so to that she’d snuck back to Camp Jupiter, where she’d been miserable, to pay her respects. Enough that she’d mobilised her whole camp to give Luke’s army a second chance.

“Okay,” Annabeth considered, his patchy descriptions. “So you think they’d listen to reason?”

He took a second, and then nodded. He did.

“And you don’t think they’d have done anything bad enough to warrant real punishment?”

“No.” He thought they were two teenagers, doing the best they could in an impossible situation, same as they were. “Not intentionally.”

Annabeth nodded, and leaned back in her seat like she was going to leave it there, when Thalia asked:

“And What about Velia?”

Instinctively, Percy wanted to say the same for her. That she was good.

But he couldn’t. He didn’t know. Whatever their bond was, he didn’t know her. Didn’t know why she did what she did or was who she was. He thought, because of hoe measured she always appeared, she might live by some standard, some rule or code, but he couldn’t say why she had it, or even what it was.

He tried to focus on what he did know. She was powerful. People came to her for advice. She was a hugger. What else?

“She’s brave. Dignified, I guess, and self-sacrificing. She’ll do what _she_ thinks is right, but I don’t think it’d be easy to make her do otherwise. I don’t know her motives, or what connects us, but Dameson did. And he thought she was worth saving.”

“Okay.” Annabeth said, mention of Dameson giving her the confidence that Percy lacked. “Okay. So, we have to convince her that helping us is the right thing to do. I mean, she’s done it before.”

Thalia still didn’t seem convinced, but thinking about it from that angle put Percy at ease, just enough that he closed his eyes and settled back in his seat. It was a long journey, and he didn’t have much else do.

Percy slept.

For the first time in two weeks, he didn’t dream.

AUGUSTUS

The day after the seance, August still felt light, as if he’d put down a load that he’d forgotten he was carrying. Today he was meant to be going into the city with Velia to get his tattoo done. He’d been worried she mightn’t feel up to it; she’d been in pretty bad shape after last night, having to be half carried back to her room. Still, when he’d come that morning to bring her breakfast in bed and to thank her properly, she’d assured him that she was fine. She’d seemed a little off but if last night had taught him anything it was that if Velia said she was strong enough to do something, then she was and then some.

Hence he was pretty surprised to enter the common room and find the rest of his friends playing keep away with Vel’s keys.

“Give them back, you phenomenal _pricks.”_

“No! Velia, you’ll get yourself killed.”

“Bold of you to assume that I can die.”

Velia said, as Hamish passed them behind his back and tossed him to Tripta sitting on the counter, who in turn passed them onto Paul. Since she was only five foot four, it wasn’t exactly difficult to keep them above her head. She was climbing onto the couch to try and overcome that, when August decided to chime in.

“I’m sorry, but why does Velia think she’d immortal?”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t think I’m Immortal, but with the stuff I’ve survived I don’t think a slippery road is going to be the thing to get me.”

“Stuff like what?” August asked, chuckling until he realised that she might not be joking. He didn’t know the specifics of what Velia had lived through before she came to camp, but he knew that it was painful. He swallowed and opened his mouth to backtrack, but luckily Velia’s mind mustn’t have gone to the same dark place as his.

“Well, I let Tripta pierce my ears when I was thirteen, with a safety pin held over a steaming kettle, and didn’t get hepatitis. I’ve watched eight full episodes of Riverdale, and my brain hasn’t leaked out of my ear. Also, Albania.”

When she didn’t elaborate, August had to ask: “What happened in Albania?”

“Gods, what didn’t?” She muttered, shooting a pointed look at Hamish, who covered his eyes with his hand and flushed red.

“We don’t talk about Albania. What we _do_ is listen to road warnings, you dafty.”

“August,” Tripta said; folding her arms. “Will you _please_ tell Velia that she is, under no circumstances, driving her moped for half an hour, when its icy outside and she almost keeled over last night?”

Velia huffed like they were being ridiculous, but for once August agreed with Tripta.

“She can do what she likes, but I’m pretty sure that _I_ can die, so I’ll be taking the bus. Honestly, I just assumed that we’d do that when you said we were still coming.”

“Thank you! _”_ Paul shouted, tossing August the keys.

While Velia was so hyperaware of other people’s needs and feelings, she didn’t tend to give herself the same consideration. She’d spend all of her energy so that he could hug his dead friend like it was nothing, and then still feel compelled him a ride the next day. She let Paul bounce ideas off of her when he was up late composing, brought Tripta food when she was tied up in the forge and listened to Hamish talk about books that she hadn’t read. But then, when someone sat up with her during sleepless nights or ask her questions about what she was making or pick the movie they watched she seemed surprised that they would want to do that for her.

Thankfully, after a little grumbling, she gave in. Instead of her driving him, they would all get the bus into Newcastle and the boys would go with August to get “jabbed at with ink”, while the girls did their own thing before meeting up again for dinner. After all that bickering, it only actually took five minutes to make a new plan and set off down the track to the bus stop.

They weren’t walking for long when Velia nearly fell on some ice.

“Gods.” She said, righting herself. “I might be more dangerous on foot than I am on Audrey.”

She’d only been kidding but everyone was still a little worried about her after last night. That was probably why Trip knelt down and insisted on giving her a piggyback the rest of the way.

“Although-” She’d told her, “-If your shoes get mud on my clothes, I will drop you where I stand.”

“I mean, that’s pretty audacious considering I made you that outfit, but, like, fair enough. It might fall apart if your machine wash it too many times.”

Tripta had laughed then, doing a twirl on the path as they walked. The jumpsuit was red with stripes and wide legs, and Tripta wore it on over a black sweater. She almost matched Velia, who wore a striped blouse under her short black dress. Paul kept pulling the bow at its collar undone, to wind her up while she tried to kick him away without sending herself and Tripta flying. August and Hamish kept a safe distance.

While he had friends at college, August had missed the easy, albeit chaotic, dynamic between the five of them. These guys had been his constant here, but before he could get too nostalgic about that, he’d caught sight of the bus approaching in the distance. It only came once every two hours over the holiday period, the drivers didn’t like to wait, since this stop was so out of the way, and he wasn’t about to miss this appointment. They ran, not even stopping so that Trip could put Velia down- it was a miracle that she didn’t drop her.

But they made it. Once they were all sat down at the back of the bus he noticed that Velia was a little quiet. He could practically hear her thoughts churning from where he was sat. She’d told him once that riding her bike helped her to clear her head- maybe that was why she was so anxious to take it. It was understandable. She’d done a lot last night. Between her, the way Hamish was obviously worried about her, Trip and Paul shooting each other moony looks every so often and he himself still processing what had happened last night he thought maybe a fun day out was what they all needed. It would do them some good.

\---

“Is it still hurting?” Paul asked him.

“It only stings.”

He was talking about the cuff of clouds that now circled his forearm, covering his legion tattoo. The artist was talented, and it looked amazing, but it had taken around four hours and good gods it _hurt._ Paul and Hamish, to their credit, had stayed with him the whole time, playing dozens of rounds of twenty questions, would you rather and I spy. If not for him being jabbed with a needle, it would have been a good way to spend the afternoon. Afterwards they’d met Vel and Tripta for dinner and drinks in a pub by the riverside, and were still there, killing time until they had to go out into the cold again. It wasn’t exactly fine dining, the paisley carpet was kinda threadbare and sticky, and the guy playing guitar in the corner sucked, but that hardly mattered. It was warm, cheap and the food was tasty.

He and Paul had been left alone at the table while Trip had gone to the bar and Vel and Hamish had gotten up to dance. Well, dance might be giving it too much credit. They were swaying a little on the scrap of parquet flooring that passed for a dance floor, along to a deeply terrible cover of Wonderwall.

Next to him Paul sighed, which August assumed was over to the shitty, shitty music. He’d leaned in to make a joke about it to Paul, when he realised that his brother was barely paying attention to the guitar.

His eyes were fixed on the lady in red waiting at the bar. Surrounded by groups going for after-work-drinks or starting their nights out on the town, Tripta stood out. With her towering height, her high cheekbones, strong nose and thick, dark, hair, she looked like a roman statue come to life. As he’d said before, she wasn’t August’s type, but he understood her appeal. That’s why he asked Paul:

“Hey, man. Are you okay?”

“Huh? Aye, yeah. Just thinking.”

“About…?”

Paul rolled his eyes and started playing with his empty pint-glass. “I think you know.”

“I do. You want to talk about it?”

They both looked back over at Tripta. Now she’d placed her order her back was to them, and she seemed to be talking to the guy stood next to her. From the glimpses of him he could see around Tripta, he was no son of Aphrodite, but he guessed he was pretty good looking. Paul set his jaw and turned his attention back to August.

“What we did yesterday made me think about-“He waved his hands around before settling them over his heart. “All of this shit.”

“Well its nice to know us grieving and defying nature got you to re-examine your love life.” He said. He was sarcastic, but there was no bite in it. Paul knew it was mostly a joke

“Sorry. I know it makes me sound like a self-obsessed twat. Me and Vel were talking about it this-morning, before scooter gate.”

“Really? How did she seem?” Because Velia had seemed a little pensive to him, but he worried it might be last night making him read into things. Paul shrugged.

“Perceptive, kind and a little cryptic. Same as always. I don’t know how we got onto it, but we got onto talking about feelings and regrets and stuff. How last night makes you think.”

August turned to look at Hamish and Velia. He lifted his arm, clumsily twirling her in the limited space. She didn’t look wise or powerful. She looked eighteen.

“Well, long chat short, she reminded me that at the end of the day, no one’s big regret is ever telling someone that they matter to them. Usually it’s the opposite.”

“That sounds like Velia.” Emotionally mature, enigmatic, and most importantly, “In that she’s probably right.”

That made Paul snort, but before he could answer, something caught their attention. Trip was looking over her shoulder at them. She jerked her head towards the guy she’d been talking to and grimaced. He was standing a little too close now, and it was clear he was making her a little uncomfortable. Immediately August started to get up, but Tripta gave a tight smile and shook her head. She had this.

“Never mind. What do you reckon. Is this the worst pub entertainer you’ve ever heard?”

Augustus shook his head. “I wish. Last month me and Riana ended up going to a pub not realising that there was an open mic comedy thing going on. It was painful. Just, so much misplaced confidence. You?”

“I wish. The worst I’ve ever heard was at the Lethal Cabbage, the Saturday before Halloween-”

“What were you doing _there_?” The Lethal Cabbage was in Woodbridge, mainly patronised by the adults of the town. The younger set usually found more fun in the woods, only going to the Lethal as a right of passage on eighteenth birthdays, when they legally could go in _._

“They had a Costume contest, and me and Vel had already won the one at camp. They had a cash prize though, so we thought it was worth a try.”

August laughed, remembering the Pictures that they’d sent him of the two of them, dressed as Sonny and Cher. With Velia’s thrifting skills, and Paul really selling it, they’d looked great.

“Why were you Cher again?”

“I’m taller. And a better singer.”

“Of course.”

“Anyway there speakers had broken so instead there was Dale from the Butchers, playing his accordian.”

“ _No.”_

“Yes. And he was playing Monster Mash, Ghost Busters, all classics. Normally he plays dead well, songs don’t really suit the accordian. So after about twenty minutes my ears are _bleeding_ and…we…uh…”

As they’d talked, Paul had kept shooting glances at Tripta’s back, keeping track of that situation. Now though, it had his undivided attention. Trip had turned back around, standing stiff as a board and keeping her eyes focused on the wall. The guy didn’t seem to take the hint. On the contrary, he laid his hand on her back. As soon as it started to drift lower, Paul was on his feet.

He moved across the bar, with the bravado that he usually reserved walking onstage. August got up too, and stopped next to Velia and Hamish to be nearby in case things escalated (and so that he could hear what they said.) The guy was shorter than Paul, buff and obviously smug about it judging by how tight his polo shirt was. Paul, meanwhile, was rangy and wore a puffy white shirt, usually only found on the fronts of trashy old romance novels, over his Black Sabbath T-shirt. He laid one hand on the bar, a barrier between the guy and Tripta.

August got up and moved to stand a little closer, with Vel and Hamish, so that he could hear what was being said.

“-what’s your hand doing on wor Lass?”

 _Wor Lass_. Meaning _my girl_. Paul had just called Tripta his girlfriend. Out loud, in a room full of people. Velia’s eyes were wide, and Hamish made a noise somewhere between a choke and a laugh. They all knew Tripta’s terms, and Pauls worries. They knew what that sentence meant to them, so long as Paul really meant it.

From the look on his face, he did. He dropped his voice to ask her, with heart-breaking sincerity:

“You, uh, you are wor lass, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Trip folded her arms and glancing down she bit her lip to hold back a smile to keep. “I think I am.”

“Yeah?” Paul confirmed, a dimpled grin blooming over his face. He swung back around towards the guy. “That’s wor lass- I mean,” He screwed his face up into something intimidating, remembering what else was going. “That’s wor lass. So, if you wouldn’t mind.”

The conversations around them had picked up again at that point, so they couldn’t hear what they were saying, but from the looks on their faces it was nothing good.

Paul said something back, which made Tripta laugh, and the asshole’s smug expression morph into an angry sneer. The ugly look on his face reminded August of Octavian. Paul and Trip turned back to face the bar, even as the boy kept on talking, his face turning red. Paul made some side comment that made Tripta laugh

And then the douchebag punched Paul.

After that everything seemed to happen within a heartbeat. Paul was just too slow to dodge, the fist landed square in his face. When Paul reeled back, there was no barrier left between the guy and Tripta. For a moment he was unbearably smug again. The barman and doorman both dashed towards them, but they weren’t quite fast enough.

Tripta punched him right back, flooring him.

“ _That.”_ She said, her eyes alight with adrenaline. “Is for my boyfriend.” 

The Pub’s employee’s pick up the creep and get him and his friends out of there. Velia darted over to the manager. He didn’t know what she said to convince him not to kick them out too, but her being a pretty girl on the verge of tears, and pretty deft at mist manipulation, might have helped him to see things their way.

Other than reassuring some people who came to see if they were okay, Paul and Tripta didn’t seem to register the chaos going on around them. His nose still streamed blood as he looked at Trip with blatant admiration. She tilted his head back and put her hand under his nose like she was trying to catch the drips while reached around for some napkins or something to soak it up. Carefully, Paul moved her hand away, and leaned down to kiss her. There was no mistaking that this time, he’d made the first move.

It was messy, and honestly gross. But, for Tripta and Paul, it was perfect.

PERCY

It had been a long journey, but thankfully beyond some kid throwing up the journey had been uneventful. The man in grey had slept the whole way, and as they’d gotten off the bus, he’d strode away like a man on a mission, knocking into Percy’s shoulder as he pushed past them. Maybe it was a coincidence after all.

Newcastle was beautiful. The streets were lined with pale, stone buildings which Annabeth told them were Victorian, with some statues and newer structures speckled in. He wished they had time to spend there. Who knew the next time he’d be abroad without the immediate threat of world destruction? But it was already mid-afternoon, and they still had to find the bus that lead to Woodbridge so instead of exploring they made a B-line for the city’s bus station.

Unfortunately, that bus ran a reduced service over the holiday period and wouldn’t be there for nearly two hours. Crap. It was only two days until the solstice, but the universe (and public transit) didn’t seem to get that they were on a time crunch.

Instead they went for a walk along the riverside. There was a market there, selling handmade stuff, art, and artisan food, so it was easy to find dinner. They were sitting on a bench eating Bratwurst, watching a white arced bridge which tilted back to let taller boats pass underneath it like a blinking eye, when he felt Thalia go stiff beside him.

“What is it?” He asked. She was focused on something in the crowd until he’d asked her. Then she blinked a couple of times and shook her head, deflated.

“Nothing. I just…saw a ghost, I guess.”

He and Annabeth both turned to gape at her, reaching for their weapons, but Thalia just rolled her eyes.

“Not literally. Do I look like Nico to you? Just-” Her voice lost its harsh edge, becoming vulnerable. “Does that never happen to you? You see someone who looks even kind of like someone who you know is lost, and you still do a double take. Like your brain is desperate for it to be them.”

She sighed, holding her head in her hands. “It sounds crazy, but sometimes I’ll see a boy with short blonde hair, or a tall, strong redhead and it takes a moment for my brain to register that it can’t be Luke or Jason or Phoebe. Today I saw this beautiful, proud looking girl with a braid, and her friend with big dark eyes and for a moment I see Zoe and Bianca. But then I remember they’re gone. And then the little one noticed me staring and looked really freaked out, so I had to look away. But still. It hurts.” She turned down to Annabeth. “Back when we were on the run, I used to look twice at every blond little boy I saw. It’s not like this was a recent thing that had started happening to me. Gods, in a hundred years, who else will I be looking for in crowds?”

Annabeth pulled Thalia in for a hug. She was sniffling. Percy wasn’t sure how to react until Thalia, without words, grabbed him by the arm and yanked him in too. While Annabeth was mostly out of the funk that she’d been in since the Ewan incident, now he was worried about Thalia all over again. He remembered what she’d told him after the first incident aboard the Beloved, about how she didn’t like losing people. He remembered everything he felt when he turned down godhood.

He had a million things he wanted to ask her, about the hunt and her feelings and what she wanted to do next. Afterall, she’d come with them so that she had the space to think. But before he could figure out how to word it, Annabeth was checking her watch, and getting up.

“ _Crap_ it’s six forty. The bus leaves in ten. We better run.”

So they ran. Hard. They almost got hit by traffic on the way and still, it wasn’t quite fast enough. By the time they got to the station the bus they needed was reversing out of its lane. Even though it was standing still, waiting to pull out of the station, no amount of waving would make it let them in. They all groaned. It would be _another_ two hours before they could head towards that town.

“What now?” he asked. But the didn’t answer. They were too busy staring through the bus window.

“There,” Thalia said, smirking. “That’s the girl I mistook for Zoe before. I recognise the jacket. Yeah, she’s definitely not a huntress.”

He followed her line of vision to a girl sat on the back seat of the bus, in a marigold yellow coat. She was kissing a guy on the seat next to her. So, no she wasn’t going to be joining the hunt any time soon. He had to laugh. It wasn’t until the two of them pulled apart and started to talk with their friends that Percy could see their faces properly. His blood ran cold.

“To be fair,” Annabeth said, between giggles, “There’s sort of a resemblance there. Something about her nose? And the eyebrows? And…oh my god, is that blood? It’s all over the guy too.”

“There _is_. In my defence, her friend - Percy what’s wrong.”

He knew those people. From his dreams. They were Velia’s friends. Tripta and Paul. Looking at the people in the seats around them, Percy could see that theirs weren’t the only familiar faces. On the seat next to them sat Hamish, and in front was Augustus. Obviously, he looked older than in the pictures that they had, but it was him. That meant the girl sitting at the window, angled away from them was-

“Percy?”

“It’s them.”

“Who-?”

“Velia. And August, and their friends. Sat on that bus.”

The girls both whipped back around to see but Velia had her back to them completely now, blocking August from sight. Her friends all seemed to be laughing at something. Who knew what?

“In the green coat? With the shoulder-length hair?”

“That’s her. We just missed them.”

Annabeth gripped his hand and pointed to one of the seats at the front of the bus.

“Not just them.”

Sitting at the front of the bus, was the man in grey. While before Percy didn’t know if he was aware of them, now the man was looking straight at them, his mouth carved into a cruel smile. Between his grey clothes, his cropped silver hair, and his sharp features he looked more like an automaton or a statue come to life than he did a man. His sunglasses were propped onto his head, revealing one eye as gold as ichor and another icy blue.

It was by his eyes that Percy knew him.

By the way Thalia’s breath hitched, and how Annabeth’s grip on his hand tightened so much that it was almost painful, so did they.

It was Dr Thorne. The manticore who’d attacked them at Westover Hall, who’d captured Annabeth and pursued him and Thalia across the country, in his human form.

“Why hasn’t he attacked us yet?” Percy mused, watching the bus roll away. He wondered if Velia and her friends had any idea what they were only a breath away from. “Is he toying with us? Or waiting for something, or-”

And he was waving at them, obviously mocking. His message was clear, even without words. Whatever they would have to face once they got to these Woods, they would have to face him first.

AUGUSTUS

“Hey, are you alright?”

They’d managed to board the bus, just on time were sat laughing and teasing Tripta and Paul. It was finally time to use up about two years’ worth of jokes and observations about how obvious and oblivious they’d both been. The new couple happy enough that they’d let them.

It had all been nice, until he heard a gasp beside him. Velia had turned around so that her back was completely to the window and was gripping onto the edge of her seat so hard that her knuckles had turned white.

“Vel, What’s wrong? Did you see something?”

She shook her head, her expression evening out into her usual sad smile.

“I saw a ghost. That’s all.”

It wasn’t like that was a rare occurrence. In a camp two-thousand years old there were plenty of ghosts coming and going, most of which were looking for someone to listen to them.

Still, it was strange that she’d seemed shaken. To be fair, she’d seemed a little off the whole time August had been home. It was like her composure, or something inside of her, was starting to slip. She was quiet for a little while, watching them like she was trying to commit them to memory, and even as they’d gotten off the bus and started to walk back to camp.

The only light came from a sliver of a moon and the flashlights that the girls had brought (there were a _lot_ of power cuts in the woods. The wiring was old, and someone blew a fuse at least once a fortnight). For a while they walked in silence, until they heard a branch snapping in the trees that lined the track.

They stopped for a moment.

“Hello?” Hamish called out. There was no reply, beyond some rustling leaves. “Anyone out there?”

“Maybe it’s a fox.”

“Not big enough to snap a branch that big.” Paul squinted into the darkness. “Probably just some kids missing curfew. The under-thirteens should have signed back into camp a half hour ago.” He looked back at them with a cheeky smile. “Probably don’t want to reveal themselves to Block Warden Parker back here.”

Vel laughed, speaking for the first time since they’d gotten onto the bus. “What can I say? I’m a slut for the health and wellbeing of children?”

“Can’t relate.” Said Tripta- a lie. She gave so much help to the kids in her forge and she was close with her little brother. “But yeah, does someone want to go check?”

Hamish nodded. Taking the flashlight from Velia, he broke away from the group to walk just within the boundary of trees for a little while, just in case there was someone lost in the woods. August hung back and took Velia’s arm, so that she didn’t slip. They walked a couple of paces behind Trip and Paul.

“You know,” he told Velia, gesturing at the couple in front of them, holding hands and taking turns at bickering and whispering sweet nothings. “This is all kind of your fault.”

“Is it now? How come?”

“Paul told me that you gave him some words of wisdom this morning. I don’t know how you became this expert on love and loss, but thank god you are.”

That made Velia smile. “I wouldn’t go that far. And everything I know; I’ve picked up from my greatest loves.”

“Your what? Who?!” Augustus blurted out. Any passionate romances that Velia, who was always a little aloof and guarded, had had was news to him. He knew that he could be a little slow to the chase, but surely, he couldn’t have missed that much. Unless…

“Hamish?!”

He blurted out, loud enough to get a response from the trees.

“Aye?”

“Nothing!” Vel answered for him, before lowering her voice to a conspiratorial stage whisper. “Yes, Hamish. And Tripta. And you, and Paul. The loves of my life.”

He had to laugh. “Come on. You know that isn’t the same thing as-” He made a vague gesture towards their friends in front of them. But Velia’s face, looking up at him, was dead serious.

“Not the same, no. Just different.” She rested her other hand on his armed. “But it no more and no less. The Greeks had seven different types for love, right? It doesn’t matter which you pour your heart into, so long as it fulfils you. I’m not a love expert. Just an expert in loving you.” She paused, taking a shaky breath. “I did my best, August. I tried to. I…

Her voice trailed off, and she looked up at the sky. It was cloudy, the moon and stars all hidden above them.

“Hey.” August told her not sure why she was upset but sure that he had to try and help her. “You’ve done - you _are_ \- the best, in my humble opinion. I mean, you’ve given me so much advice and help with my Rome-Angst over the years. If you were the go-to source of guidance for Tripta and Paul, through all of this” He gave a low whistle. “You have the patience of a saint. And, uh, I love you too.”

As he said that, the Hamish came out of the woods towards them.

“Couldn’t see anything. Maybes it was a fox. A really fat fox. Did I miss anything?”

“Me and Trip were talking about how we’re both emotionally constipated morons.”

“I knew that already. What about you two?” Hamish said, turning back to him and Velia, who smiled, and took them all in, one by one. When she spoke it sincere.

“We were talking about how I love you all. Very much.”

Tripta broke away from Paul and practically bounced over to hug Velia. Paul followed suit. And then Hamish. And then August. How could he not?

“Vel, my love.” Tripta murmured in her ear, with a gentleness they rarely heard from her. “We knew that already too. You’re a sappy drunk. You know that, right?”

“Oh yeah.” Vel told them, even though she didn’t seem drunk to August. “But an honest one.”

They stood there for a little, none of them wanting to be the one to break up the huddle and push them to go back to camp. They were still standing there when it started, finally after so many days of speculating and talking about it.

Snow.

They all moved out a little, their heads tilted back towards the sky, fat white flakes sticking on their scarves and hair and melted as they touched his skin.

As Velia stood there, her arms outstretched as if to catch her, the snowflakes that melted on her cheeks did a good job of masking her tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Its been a while 😬 yeah, although I'm doing my best I dont want to sacrifice quality for speed, and honestly I think my quality of writing is better when I'm not rushing myself to finish! Once I finish this story I might have to private it and post a heavily edited version since some parts (namely the dynamics between my OCs) I really want to rework :-)  
> But other than that, I'm so sorry that this update is coming so late!  
> Plot wise though, we're starting to heat up! Next chapter is 90% percy, in which all becomes clear (and then immediately less clear) so I hope you enjoy! And oh! If you'd like to motivate me to write faster, please KUDOS AND COMMENT! Its much easier to write more when I know that what came before is meeting the mark that I intended it to :-)  
> So please, kudos and comment and have a lovely week! See you all soon! Xx


	17. Nine of Wands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A final stand. A reunion. A question answered, and a thousand asked.

**NINE OF WANDS**

_The last stand, resilience, fatigue_

AUGUSTUS

“Got any nines?”  
“Go fish. Any queens?”

They’d only been back at camp half an hour when there’d been a power cut. They happened pretty often, and Electric Barry had his subsection of the maintenance team well trained by now, so no one was worried. Most of the witches left at camp had already been in the common room, so they dragged out their battery-powered lamps and magic lanterns. It was like a sleepover, with people wrapped up in blankets, perched up on the countertops and sprawled on the floor, playing boardgames with missing pieces, card games, or just talking.

“Ugh. Here. I hope you die.” Trip flicked two cards at him. “Hey, do we have any spring rolls left from the other night?”

“No, Paul ate them yesterday.”

“Guilty. Sorry.” Paul looked a little bashful, but with tissue still shoved up his nose and the beginnings of two black-eyes, it was difficult to be mad at him.

“Gods, if I wasn’t so pleased with you right now, Paul.” She muttered, pecking a kiss onto his temple. “Someone feed me?”

“How are you still hungry?” August asked her. “Those pies were huge.”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t have one, could I? They all had meat in them. I had a side of chips and mushy peas since they were the only Vegetarian options on the menu.”

“Sorry, I- wait, you and Velia chose that restaurant!”

“Yes, and they said they had some mushroom thing, but they’d ran out and they didn’t tell me until I placed my order and all the soup had ham stock in ir. Speaking of places with only one Vegetarian option, Paul, has your dad texted you back yet?”

“Aye. The message just said _finally.”_

They all laughed at that, but August had to ask- _“_ How are those things related?”

“Because the only Veggie meal that Rick makes is cauliflower cheese. And as much as I love him, and its so nice of him to try and cater for me and its good, I have eaten so. Much. Cauliflower cheese over the past six years.”

“I’ve got a pot noodle if you want it?”

“What kind?”

“Curry.”

“You’re a king among men, Hamish Barrow. And while you’re on your feet…?”

“I’ll put the kettle on. Anyone else want owt while I’m up? I’m assuming you’ll have a cup of tea- Velia? Where are you going?”

August looked up from his hand of cards to see Velia standing at the door wearing her coat, watching them. When Hamish said her name she jumped a little, like she’d been lost in thought, before smiling.

“Just going for a walk. I wanted to enjoy the snow before it gets all slushed up. Or used as a projectile. Plus, now that the sky’s cleared the stars are out.”

“Do you want any company?” August offered. She’d been odd tonight, so it maybe wasn’t the best idea for her to be on her own, outside in the cold and dark. But then maybe some time alone to get her head straight was just what she needed.

She shook her head. “No. I need to go this alone. You guys stay. Enjoy yourself- and don’t wait up for me.”

She lingered at the door a second, her eyes drifting around the room before settling back on them for a second. Then, smiling and tightening her scarf, she disappeared out the front door.

Not thinking much else of it, August turned back to his game.

\---

PERCY

The woods were wild, and they were ancient.

He was sure if Grover were here then he’d be able to tell him more about them than that, maybe even convince a dryad or some other spirit to guide them. Instead they could only stick to the track, and hope that they found Velia before Thorn found them.

Walking through that town had been unsettling. In cities- no matter how small- there was constant exchange of strangers which made it easy to just pass through. In a small town like this there was activity, sure. People ran home down narrow flagstone streets, passed in and out of a pub which hummed like a beehive and parents walked slowly while their kids trudged through the slush. With the snow, it looked like something out of a Christmas card, but Percy didn’t feel like a visitor. He was an intruder in this world that tried so hard to stay hidden.

As the pavement turned to a dirt track, and the shops and houses gave way to trees that feeling of discomfort had grown. The trees that grew around the path were so tall and so dense that only snippets of moonlight had made it through the canopy. It was like walking through a deserted battle ground or ancient ruins, the air was so thick with memories that you could almost choke on them.

As they trailed deeper into the woods Thalia took the lead, guiding them off path into the trees. Even though the snow had stopped falling, it had made it hard for Thalia to track, and they’d done so many double takes by then that Percy was starting to doubt having ever seen Thorn. Percy didn’t know what invisible trail that Thalia was following, but he was right to trust her. They hadn’t walking for long when she found a black, barb caught in a tree. One of the spikes that Thorn shot from his Scorpion’s tail. The poison, fresh as it was, had already turned the bark it had pierced grey and brittle.

Slowly, quietly, they kept going, the woods only getting darker. More barbs, and even some crossbow bolts marked out a path like a trail of breadcrumbs. On and on they went, until suddenly Thalia stopped, and Percy walked straight into her back.

“Oof-“

He was silenced by her warning look. She’d have probably told him to watch it, but then there were rustling sounds, followed by a _thunk_ like a knife being driven into a chopping block. They all stopped to listen before making their way deeper into the woods. It reminded him a little of that time that he and Jason had found Grover stuck to a tree, although he doubted they were going to find anything that innocent. That became even clearer Annabeth found a black crossbow, lying on the ground. It was almost snapped in half, as if someone had stood on it. Even in the half-light and even though he’d never seen it in person, Percy recognised that weapon. He recognised the black, engraved handle and the way the silver was held together by lines of a duller, darker metal running through it like branches.

“It’s hers.” He said. He didn’t have to elaborate on who.

“So, she’s close.” Annabeth whispered, “And she’s probably unarmed.”

Meanwhile Thalia seemed preoccupied by the bow itself, tracing it with her fingers while holding her own bow up next to it. They were similar shapes, but the silver of Velia’s bow didn’t have that same otherworldly glow that hers did. He knew that Velia kept company with thieves, so maybe these Witches were scavengers too.

Annabeth slung the bow over her shoulder and picked up the discarded bolts as they carried on.

Eventually they got close enough to hear voices.

“- can’t run forever, little girl.”

They had found Thorn.

Another barb launched, and presumably missed its mark, but if Velia had lost her bow this wouldn’t be an even fight. If she was so difficult to catch, though, Percy didn’t understand why Thorn was bothering. As if Thorn was here on some kind of personal mission, surely some random other Half-Blood wouldn’t be enough to distract him from it.

Percy was shaken from that thinking by a sharp howl of pain.

They hurried.

Thorn stood in a little clearing in the trees, besides a square of newly turned over soil the size of a grave. Perhaps it was. Again, Percy was struck by how _wrong_ this all felt. He’d fought so many monsters over the years. This wasn’t the scariest thing he’d faced by a long shot, but it was the most helpless and ignorant that he’d felt in years. It wasn’t so much that Thorn held all the but that Percy had no idea what game he was supposed to be playing, or who was on his team.

Underneath Thorn, Velia was pinned down by paw pressed to her throat. If the look that he’d given them from the bus had been threatening, the one he had aimed at Velia was _poisonous._

“I should do what that drunk, bastard god did to me. What _you_ did to me in the pit.” He tightened his grip. “Choke the life from your body. Reduce you back into nothingness, alone in the dark. Only you won’t reform, will you. What will await you beyond, I wonder? Or perhaps I’ll keep you long enough for the boy to see. To know how completely he failed to save you.”

The first time, they’d only been able to defeat Thorn by calling Mr D. He didn’t remember there being a second time, especially not in Tartarus. But then, Percy hadn’t seen a lot of the things that had followed him through the pit. He remembered a vision of Velia in torn clothes, brandishing darkness like chains to choke the life out of a monster. His debts to her just kept piling up, it seemed.

Wordlessly, Percy gestured for the girls to split up. They needed to get the manticore off her neck, and to subdue him somehow, which would be easiest if they could surround him somehow. There wasn’t need for discussion. By now fighting alongside each other was as easy as bickering or laughing together. It barely warranted thought. Annabeth nodded, and tapped her own chest before nodding towards Thorn. The message was clear. On her mark, she had a plan.

Percy skirted the edge of the clearing until he faced Thorn head on, from where he was hidden. The manticore’s face was only inches away from Velia, who was quickly turning a mottled purple from the lack of oxygen. They didn’t have long.

He dragged his eyes back to Annabeth, lying on her stomach, half covered by undergrowth and wielding Velia’s crossbow. She took in a shaky breath, and then held up her right hand, signalling to Thalia.

Directly across from him, Percy heard a deliberate snapping noise, and saw a flash of silver as Thalia, moved through the trees on the other side of Thorn. Anyone who knew her, and her background as a huntress and a runaway, would have known that Thalia wouldn’t make a mistake that obvious. It was bait, but Thorn fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. As he turned back towards the sound, his grip on Velia loosened enough that she could take a breath like a death rattle.

Before Thorn could figure out what he’d seen a bolt whistle past his ear and lodged itself deep into the tree which Percy was hunkered down against. The manticore flinched, lifting his paw for long enough that Velia could look up at the bolt. Annabeth didn’t have a Huntress’ expert aim or much with crossbows, but over a decade of practice at camp could make anyone a good enough shot to just miss someone.

While Thorn turned to see where the shot had been fired from, the girl’s gaze drifted downwards to where Percy crouched. He was hidden by darkness but somehow she looked him straight in the eye, like she just knew it was him. A thousand unknowable feelings flashed across her face, before her expression settled on a smile that was almost feral.

She snapped back into battle mode. Taking advantage of Thorne’s being distracted, Velia managed to grasp something flat and round off of the ground besides her. Thorn turning his attentions back to Velia and regaining his hold on her neck, but thank the gods, Velia was faster.

It was the jagged lid of a tin can that she’d picked up off of the ground. The cheap metal couldn’t turn a monster to dust like celestial bronze could, but Percy knew from experience that those things were _sharp._ She slashed it across Thorn’s human face, the only part of him not covered in a thick hide or scales like plate armour. He reared back roaring in pain. The girl was free.

The girl scrambled to her feet, shaky as a doe, lurched into the darkness and disappeared, leaving the manticore alone in the clearing. He roared again, in frustration this time.

“BRATS. Not this time. You won’t win this time.”

Annabeth and Thalia kept circling the clearing in near silence, launching arrows at sporadically so that he couldn’t narrow in on or attack either of them. It was a good strategy, but the arrows, being fired two at a time couldn’t do much more than nick him.

“You see me.”

Percy started, and swung around brandishing Riptide. Right behind him, where there had been nothing but darkness a moment ago, stood Velia. Even though he’d seen her at so many vulnerable moments, this was the first time that they’d stood face to face. It was the first time that she’d acknowledged him. The girl stood shrouded in the darkness like a cloak, to the extent he couldn’t see much of her beyond the striped collar at her throat, and the unfathomable glint of her eyes.

“I see you.”

She nodded.

“Who else is with you?” Her voice was calm. Uncannily for someone who’d been close to death mere minutes ago.

“Annabeth and Thalia. My friends. They- “

“I know who they are, Percy. How could I forget?”

He guessed she had a point. After all, he’d been able to recognise her friends from his dreams without having them. What he didn’t understand was why she spoke as though she was assuring him of something.

“I don’t have a weapon.” She lifted one of her hands into a beam of moonlight that had managed to pierce the trees. The girl hadn’t just been standing in the darkness. It was like she was starting to fade into it, or as though the shadows were clinging to her somehow. 

“And I can’t kill him with magic. I’m sorry. I overextended myself a few days ago. I’m usually so prepared but I didn’t expect a monster, and it’s not like I was planning on fighting you.” Well, that was nice to know. So was the fact she was expecting him, but before Percy could press and ask her how she turned her attention back onto the battle. “I think I have enough left in me to distract him for a while, though. Get your friends. Figure something out.” 

Before he could even agree, she made as if to disappear again. His head spinning, he grabbed her by the shoulder to stop her. For a moment, as her big, luminous eyes looked back at him, he was seized by a feeling of Deja vu. Like he’d been here before. The prophesy had promised him answers from her. He was owed that.

“I will. And I’ll trust you. But as soon as he’s defeated, you tell me everything. Everything I ask you.”

“And I will.” Velia told him, resigned. “And I trust that you’ll return the favour.”

He nodded and it seemed to placate her, although he didn’t know what she could possibly want from him. She let out a hollow, sigh of laughter.

“I’ve imagined being able to talk to you again so many times. Pictured it going well and going bad. Somehow I never pictured this.”

“ _Again_?” Percy parroted the word back at her. She was familiar, but the fact he couldn’t place her had made him think that he couldn’t have really _known_ her (although her face being half obscured by the night probably didn’t help him make connections). He was sure that he’d never met a Velia Parker and he was sure that he hadn’t seen the girl in Tartarus, or _anyone_ with powers like hers. None of this made sense.

“You mean you didn’t- you don’t-? And you came all this way.” For the first time, Velia seemed shaken by him. Even a little hurt. While before she’d been ready to pounce, now she looked like she could be knocked over by a breath. Part of him was relieved to see a crack in her composure. The greater part was more comfortable when she regained it. Her tone was pragmatic and cool. “That explains a lot, now that I think about it. Soon. I’ll explain.”

Then there was a cry.

Thorn had finally zeroed in on one of his assailants, physically picking Annabeth up and throwing her into a tree. She crumpled on and Thorn slowly prowled over towards her, exaggeratedly licking his thin lips. It was his turn to act as bait, and It was working. Percy pulled out riptide and moved to charge, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Velia’s grip was as cold as a corpse, and impressively strong for someone so small.

“Get Thalia. Think of a plan. I’ll distract him.”

Percy didn’t like that idea at all, but before he could tell her that Velia slid back into the shadows, into nothingness.

For a second it was quiet.

Then in the branches above Thorn there was a sharp whistle. The silhouette of a girl cut through the moonlight. A laugh, uneven and unhinged, rang through the clearing. Pulling away from Annabeth, Thorn shot at the girl, but he was just too slow. She was gone.

“Face the facts _doctor_.” Velia’s voice, from behind Thorn now, dripped with derision. Percy didn’t suppose that a manticore would really have a PhD. Torn between threatening Annabeth, and hurting Velia, Torn finally chose the latter. His eyes raked over the undergrowth for Velia, who kept right on taunting him.

“You couldn’t kill us when I was clueless child.”

A child? How long had she been following them for? She spoke from the side of the clearing opposite to Percy. As soon as he did, Percy saw arms reach out to Annabeth. Thalia trying to pull her to safety. Percy started to skirt the clearing to go help her.

“You couldn’t kill us in the pit, when I was at my weakest.”

Again, her the voice had moved. When Thorn stalked towards it, he clearing the way for Percy to get past, grabbing Annabeth’s discarded rucksack and rifling through its pockets as he went to her.

“So why, when I’m in my home territory-“

The speech was punctuated by another shot from the scorpion tail.

“-and we both know exactly what I’m capable of-“

She had jumped again.

“-would you think you could do it this time?”

Her voice was full of bravado, but Percy knew she was fading. Who knew how long she could keep this up for? He hunkered down beside Thalia and helped her get Annabeth back to the relative safety of the trees. She was pale and disoriented, with a little gash on the back of her head, but nothing serious. He fed her the ambrosia he’d found in her bag while Thalia watched the face off. Thorn was furious now, firing more and more frequently now, as Velia’s jumps got quicker and quicker to keep up. Each time she moved she clapped, trying her best to keep Thorns attention.

“What is she doing?”

“Distracting him. I don’t know how we have though.”

“No, I figured that Percy. I mean is it magic? Shadow travel? Or are we dealing with something-“

Velia materialised besides them, close enough that Percy could make out a rip in her sleeve, and a gash of blood where there hadn’t been one before. Slower this time, and almost more deliberately, she clapped.

Percy wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean beyond _hurry the hell up,_ but as Velia turned back into the darkness her eyes widened in recognition.

“What?” Percy asked, as she snatched the backpack off him and placed it carefully in Annabeth’s arms, making sure her hands were over the pocket with the ambrosia in it, in case she decided she needed more once she was lucid.

“The clapping. We do that in the hunt if we get split up. One person distracts, and they use the clapping to try and keep the monster in place - we use it a lot.“  
“I have _never_ heard of you guys doing this.”  
“That’s because the dryads get pretty pissed when we do it at camp. Plus, why would we tell you guys our best capture the flag strategy?”  
“Fair. So then why does Velia know-?”

Thalia held her hand out to pause him, so that she could listen, then scrambled a couple of yards on her hands and knees to kneel by a tree trunk, maybe as wide as a lamp post.

“No idea,” Thalia said, “Great minds think alike or something. But she can’t keep this up forever and she can’t answer any questions if she’s dead. C’mon.”

She laid her hand on the tree and murmured a little prayer in ancient Greek, her silver huntress’ glow getting brighter as she did. He could pick out the word’s _nature_ and _forgiveness._

Thalia clapped. Before Thorn could so much as turn around Velia echoed the sound back. Her jumps got faster again, and more purposeful. That’s when Percy figured out their tactic. The pattern seemed deliberate now, like they were trying to guide Thorne, so that he stood right beneath…

The airpressure dropped. There was a great _crack_ and Percy smelled smoke.

The tree fell in a smooth, straight arc, and Thorn was so focused on getting his next shot in that he almost didn’t see it coming. That’s when things went wrong. Thorn moved just fast enough that the tree didn’t strike him on the head, or pin him down, but it knocked him off his feet right as he took another shot.

The barb flew out at random.

By sheer, unfortunate coincidence it struck Velia right as she materialized in the clearing. She had no time to try and dodge it.

She gasped and clutched her shoulder, where the spike had pierced her skin clean through. She’d been weak enough before that her form was starting to slip away, but now it was like the last of her mental strength had been leeched away as she fell to her knees in a heap. Thorn let out a laugh, his teeth flashing like knives as he staggered towards the crumpled girl. He was every bit as self-satisfied as if he’d struck her down intentionally.

“You go help her,” Percy hissed to Thalia. “I’ll distract him. Try to face him head on.”

“Distract him?” Thalia’s face was twisted in disbelief. “Yeah, because that tactic is working out so well so far.”

She was right, of course. Two of them were out of comission for trying to distract Thorn. Still, it was the only plan they had so Percy Charged.

He burst out into the open, sword drawn and tried to strike. Thorn managed to dodge riptide by a hair’s breadth and rolled back onto his feet. They stood facing each other for a second, panting. The manticores smile was euphoric and it was clear he’d been waiting for this opportunity. 

“Isn’t this sweet?” He said, as he and Percy began to circle one another. “All of you together again, with no gods here to help you, to die as you should have all those years ago?”  
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Thalia, who’d taken off her silver jacket and diadem to make herself less conspicuous as she knelt at Velia’s side and took her pulse, pouring a little ambrosia onto the wound at her side. Percy struck again, trying keep Thorn’s attention away from the girls and wishing that the prophesy had warned him about the manticore. Then again, he reasoned, it was a difficult word to rhyme and Apollo wasn’t that good a poet.

His sword locked with the stinger, and they pushed against each other until Percy dropped to his knees and slid underneath Thorn’s legs, hoping it would throw the manticore off balance. He was up and about to launch his next attack when he heard a gasp from behind him. He only looked back for a second, thinking that Velia had woken up or that something was wrong with Annabeth. He wasn’t expecting the noise to have come from Thalia. She’d rolled Velia onto her back, but rather than treating her shoulder Thalia had fallen back off her knees, her expression one of shock and horror.

He only looked back for a second.

That second was all it had taken.

Percy felt something cold and sharp, press to the back of his head.

A foot on his back, forced him to the ground, and he was roughly rolled onto his back, Thorn’s lion’s claws piercing his winter coat. Thorn’s mismatched eyes looked down on him, triumphant, and anticipating dealing the killing blow. Percy braced himself, either for a speedy death by a spike to the brain or a slow death by monologue. At this point he didn’t know which would be more painful. He wanted to keep fighting, if only to keep Thorn away from the girls, but his hands were immobile beneath him and Riptide had been knocked out of reach. Desperately, he clamped his eyes shut and tried to sense the water around him. After he’d used his poison against Akhalys in Tartarus, Percy had promised himself that he would never stretch his powers again. Desperate times called for desperate measures, though. The Trees, maybe? He could call the water in them over to pull one down over Thorn. If he got out of the way, so could Percy. If he didn’t, well, Percy was a goner if he did nothing. Or…Blood was water, wasn’t it? Or whatever it was who ran through monsters veins. Percy remembered a cartoon he’d watched as a kid, and didn’t think much of at the time, where an old woman who’d manipulated men like puppets. He shouldn’t. It defied every law of nature. But if he had to-

Percy hadn’t been paying attention to Thorn’s speech. He was too busy trying to look for some solution. Some hope. But he noticed when it stopped, abruptly. He felt something fall onto his stomach, like sand falling through an hourglass and onto his chest. A neat hole had appeared in Thorn’s chest, and it grew bigger and bigger as Thorn turned into that yellow dust, like chalk, that monsters turned into, from the inside out. It fell down on Percy like ashes from a volcano and stained the snow around him like puss from a wound.

He lay there panting, wondering by what grace he was still alive when this place was beyond his gods, until Annabeth appeared out of the thin air above him, clutching her Yankees cap in one hand and her knife in the other, an avenging angel.

He wasn’t surprised. One of the first things he’d learnt as a half blood was that he couldn’t count on the gods. They were selfish and proud, and since they couldn’t conceive mortality, they didn’t tend to consider it. What he count on was Annabeth. He desperately wanted to hold her, thank her, and make sure she was okay, but there wasn’t time for that.

Velia was starting to groan on the ground, but Thalia was still staring down at her like she were a ghost, or she’d disappear any second. Annabeth went to her and took her hands but Thalia barely seemed to register it. All of her focus was on the girl on the ground. Percy got down next to her. Her body was still doing that smoky thing, as if her very being was fraying at the edges.

“We need to get her…we need to get her somewhere. What do we do? How do…I don’t know. What do we do?”

But no one moved. No one spoke. He looked up, thinking that maybe one of them was hurt worse than he’d thought and he hadn’t noticed, but Annabeth’s gaze was locked on Thalia and hers was on the girl.

“I don’t understand.” She muttered.

“Thalia? I don’t know what’s wrong with her either. That’s why I need you to-.”

“I… She died. Hades - She’s dead. I don’t understand.”

A grim sort of understanding seemed to fall over Annabeth, but Percy couldn’t say the same for himself. He looked up to her, silently begging her to explain what he wasn’t seeing.

“Percy.” Annabeth’s voice was tight, as if it was a strain to keep the emotion, the fear, out of it, “We’ve met her before. And Thalia’s right that this isn’t, or at least it shouldn’t be _possible_.”

“Why are you just standing there! We-”

He stopped himself as Velia’s moans turned into mumbling, and she made a weak attempt to grab at his arm.

“My choice” She told him, the words all slurring together. “Don’t regret it. That was _true_.” She struggled to make every syllable, but she said it with urgency. The words were familiar, and Percy grappled to think where he’d heard them before. Well, other than-

No.

He tried to push the thought, the stupid, impossible thought of a _loved one thought lost_ from years before, to the back of his mind. It made _no_ sense. But then, why Thorn? And why had he spoken about them as a group, including Velia? A thousand other details that he’d picked up from his dreams started to thread themselves together, like beads on a string. How she’d allegedly been there at the Triple G Ranch, where Nico had summoned the dead. Why she would dance around her feelings for someone who was clearly crazy about her. Her guilt, and her grief and the things she’d told Damson, about extra time and escaping fate all started to make a sick sort of sense.

The loved one thought lost wasn’t Augustus.

 _Lost in the land without rain._ Lost. Lost didn’t mean gone. Not necessarily. 

They’d never found a body.

“You didn’t realise?”

Percy shook his head, not even registering who’d asked him the question.

When he looked down at the girl this time he didn’t see her carefully styled hair and clothes. He didn’t see her disability or the years that shouldn’t have been able to touch her as they had. He tried desperately to reconcile the person he’d seen in his dreams with the one he’d known five years ago.

He looked into a pair of dark eyes that reminded him of someone famous, that seemed realer and clearer than anything else in those woods.

Bianca di Angelo looked back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO….It took a while to get here, but that’s Velia?  
> This might seem a little out of left field, but when you look back on it, the signs were all there. The witches curse, the lost brother, the death magic, the story she told August and the stars, and Thalia's mistake in the last chapter. The stars. That poor girl. Please let me know what you thought of this, because it was an absolute nightmare to write! And hope you enjoyed!  
> Join us next week when we see just how this all wound up happening in the first place, and August finds out just how much he didn’t know.   
> I've been waiting sixteen chapters to write this, so please give me some feedback! Did you see this coming? does it make sense? Are you excited to see where it goes next? Comment and Kudos, and I'll see you soon!   
> Keep well :-)


	18. Two of Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stalemate, Difficult Choices, Hidden Information.  
> It's been a while, sorry!

**TWO OF SWORDS**

_Stalemate, Difficult Choices, Hidden Information_

AUGUSTUS

August hadn’t noticed how long Velia had been gone.

People were starting to drift away from the common room, but the party atmosphere was still there. Paul and Tripta had gone off to the corner to make out a little, which left August to play scrabble with Hamish, Anushka and a guy whose name august didn’t know but it was too late to ask now. There was an extra challenge since all the Y, N and E tiles were missing from the sets. He’d noticed the time, but he’d just assumed that Velia had gotten tired and gone to bed, seeing as she’d been so drained that morning.

Around midnight Anushka and Hamish were bickering over whether _quartzy_ was a real word, until they heard shouting outside. when they heard shouting outside. Granted, there was almost always yelling or something going on an evening, especially near Yule, but this was different. It sounded frantic.

The hum died down. Paul and Tripta pulled apart from each other; it was as if the whole common room had pricked up their ears. Mary got up from the chair where she’d been dozing in the corner, pulling her blanket over her like a cloak as she left.

“Wait. I’ll check it out.” Her voice had taken on that firm confidence that August would never have thought she was capable of if they hadn’t left New Rome. She was gone for maybe two minutes when she came back in. She smiled and told people it was fine, just some new arrivals coming in, but her expression was tight and strained as she came over to the rug where August and Hamish were sat.

“It’s Velia. And she has some visitors.” She whispered. bending down to their level. “We sent them to the med bay. She’s fine but…” She looked intently at Hamish, and then over his head to Tripta and Paul, watching them from their corner. “Go. I’ll follow.”

The couple on the couch scrambled up and over to the door and August went with them, but Hamish stood still for a second staring Mary down. He towered over her, but his stance wasn’t intimidating, just tense.

“Did you know?” Hamish’s voice was as soft as it was stressed.

Mary searched his face with wide, watery blue eyes. “I guessed. Well, Ethan guessed. It’s obvious once you start stringing things together. And she knew that I knew. But we never spoke about it, until-“ Her eyes darted over to August. “She told me this was coming. Someone had to know.”

Hamish swallowed. “So its him then.” It was less of a question than a confirmation.

“Go.”

They went.

\---

August had never seen Velia look so small.

Well, she wasn’t very tall, but straight-backed and sharply dressed, she had a presence. Now though, bandaged up under thick blankets, she looked pale and weak and so _young._ But she was alive, and that was what mattered.

When they’d gotten to her August hadn’t been sure how to approach, since magic-related conditions could be funny. Tripta had no such reservations. She didn’t hesitate to get on the bed besides Velia, was half-sitting and half-lying on her side while holding one of Vel’s hands in both of hers.

“Here we are again.” She said gently to Velia, who gave no sign of having heard her. ‘Full circle.’ She looked to the rest of them still hovering by the door. “She doesn’t bite.”

Paul took in a sharp breath and moved to sit on the foot of the bed, and august to sit on her other side. Hamish stayed rooted to his spot by the door. Before August could ask what Tripta meant by _again_ a medic entered. They shut the door quickly, since someone was ranting loudly elsewhere in the med-bay, but for the moment August didn’t care about that.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s a daft bitch whose too noble for her own good, is what’s wrong with her.” Tripta spoke before the medic had a chance. While her words were harsh her tone was soft, and so were her hands as she smoothed down Velia’s hair.

“What else though, Arden?” Paul asked the medic, who seemed pretty startled by Trip’s proclamation.

“Well she used a lot of magic-“ August immediately felt guilt like a punch in the gut. It was for him she’d used that magic. He’d _known_ that she’d seemed tired. He should have checked up on her tonight.

“And the shoulder wound didn’t help, either. Thank god, we got the poison out in time.”

Oh. Whatever she’d just faced, she shouldn’t have had to face it alone. Gently, Trip lowered the covers around her shoulder, revealing a mass of crisp white bandages. August couldn’t help but wince.

“Thankyou. For treating her.”

Arden shrugged. “All in the days work. If you want to thank anyone, thank her friends who brought her in-“ They paused a second. Even with the door closed you could still make out a raised voice. The walls in the med bay were notoriously thin. “-provided you can get a word in edgeways.”

“Which friends?” Velia’s social circle was a little wider than his, with other friends from school, or working in the clothing exchange, or doing magic. Swathes of witches who’d left the woods came home for Yule, or because their collage accommodation closed for the holidays. They stayed in the rooms of kids who spent the period at home. Still. “I mean, who do we thank?”

Arden only shrugged. “I don’t know, sorry. They just said they were old friends of Velia’s. I don’t think they live here. Americans.” When no one said anything, Arden got a nervous look, pushing a hand back through cropped, fair hair. “Why, was Velia not expecting guests? It’s just, they knew her name and one of the girls started to freak out a bit, the other was injured and the guy looked like he was in shock so I didn’t want to turf them out-“

“It’s true.” Tripta cut them off. All the tenderness that had been there as she’d cussed at Velia was gone. “I can speak to them if you like.”

Arden just nodded before scampering off to get something or over for Velia. Trip swung her feet onto the floor.

“One of you has to get her things and see what’s got Mary. Find out where she’s planning on putting Vel’s guests. Oh, and Paul, tell your dad. He’ll want to know. The other one of you, explain to August.”

August liked the sound of that last one. Velia never mentioned old friends, even in passing, never mind that they were coming here, so close to Yule. Tripta got up and crossed into the next room, quickly shutting the door behind her. Paul pulled out his cell phone to call his dad and realising that there was no signal in the bay, got up to leave, telling them he would get Velia some decent pyjamas while he was gone.

That left August and Hamish alone as Velia’s eyes stayed determinedly closed. Next door the voices kept on rising until they suddenly dropped. If they resumed it was too quiet to hear, even though the walls were about as thick as plywood.

“Hamish?” August turned to ask his friend. “Explain what?”

He took a deep breath, bracing himself before he started to speak.

“Who Velia was before.”

PERCY

They’d had to put their original shock on hold to carry Velia the rest of the way to camp. They managed to find the path again and followed it until the trees gave way to buildings. As they arrived at the buildings Annabeth began to yell for help. People, teenagers mainly, ran out into the lanes and pointed them in the direction of the medical bay. They were close to a cluster of bigger buildings in the middle of camp when they were met by a girl with long white-blonde hair and a faded blanket wrapped around her like a shroud. Mary Cooper seemed afraid when she met his eyes. Still, she nodded to him, her mouth pressed into a resolute line before retreating back into a long, low building that Percy half remembered from a dream. Clearly, she understood what was going on better than he did.

The medical bay was one of the sturdiest looking structures in the camp, even if it was at least fifty years old. By the time they made it there a tall, willowy medic was waiting to pluck the girl out of his arms and usher them into a waiting room. When Annabeth tried to ask them, what was going on the medic only pointed to a stack of Pamphlets on the table.

They sat there in silence for a little while. Percy took in the water stains on the ceiling, and the paper flowers and kid’s drawings on the wall to distract himself, until…

“What. The. _Fuck._ ”

Thalia was clearly upset. Very upset. He didn’t blame her. He was vaguely aware of her tirade, going on in the background, and Annabeth trying to calm her down, but he couldn’t bring himself to tune into it. Percy didn’t speak. He didn’t know what to feel.

Happy? A massive tragedy that had hung over his head for years had never happened. Bianca was Alive. This was a good thing to have happened. And yet, that wasn’t it.

Mad? He’d mourned her. Felt guilty. Her death had set off a huge string of events, all over a stupid mythomagic statue. Nico had been a mess, and Percy had struggled to help him, feeling inadequate the whole time, and for what?

Guilty? Despite that, she’d suffered. Been hurt. Been to hell and back. For him apparently. Maybe. By the looks of things. Plus watching Nico suffer, unable to help, couldn’t have been easy either.

It was complicated. The whole thing was too complicated.

They snapped back to attention when the Medic came back into the room, asking if any of them were hurt. Annabeth let them check out the headwound she’d gotten in the fight when Dr Thorn had thrown her against the tree. Percy felt a stab of guilt. He’d been so caught up that he’d forgotten she’d been hurt.

“Nothing Fatal. Still, any headaches, dizziness, sickness, problems with your memory or your balance, come on back. It might be a concussion. The Witch Mother is getting your accommodation sorted, so you can head to the main office. Okay?”

“And B-Velia?” Annabeth asked.

“Overexerted, but stable. Solid, at least. So, if there’s nothing else I can do, could I ask yous to go? No offence. Just, we’ve already contacted her people, and our policy is that only close friends and family are meant to wait, not…” The medic’s calm smile wavered, obviously not knowing what to call them. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate what you’ve done. So, if you don’t mind?”

“We are close friends.”

The sound of Percy’s voice surprised even himself. He’d not spoken all this while.

“Are you now?” The medic seemed sceptical, looking them all up and down.

“Old friends.” It wasn’t quite a lie. Arden didn’t look entirely convinced but didn’t argue.

“Okay. You can stay until someone verifies that, or until Witch-Mother Mary fixes you a room. Okay?”

They all nodded.

The door was barely closed before Thalia started up again.

“How many people are in on this? What is this Place even?-“

The girls resumed their conversation. He stayed quiet and kept on grappling with his feelings until door opened again. It wasn’t a medic this time.

Tripta looked different in person. Maybe it was because he was used to seeing her in fonder memories, through Velia’s eyes. Maybe it was because he was used to seeing her in happy memories. Before him now, imposingly tall with her arms folded, she was a far cry from the girl he’d seen kissing on the bus or in a dream with her hair tangled up in Legos. Though her eyes were ringed red, and her eye-makeup smudged like she’d just been crying, her jaw was set and her expression was stern. She made a b-line towards Percy and offered him a hand.

“Percy Jackson?”

He nodded, shaking it. The gesture seemed oddly formal but then, he reminded himself, this was the first time they’d met. 

“You’re Tripta.”

She nodded. “Yes.” She sat herself down on a chair facing his. With her arms and legs crossed, she looked like she was conducting a meeting or a police interrogation.

“First things first, you need to explain to me-“

“Explain to _you_?” Thalia stormed over to stand beside Percy, half bending down to meet Tripta’s eyes. “We find out that someone we knew cheated death, lived a lie. We barely know where it is we are and you think we owe _you_ and explanation for-“

“For finding a place that’s stayed hidden, and independent from any gods for two-thousand years. Showing up just in time to drag my friend half-dead from the woods. Yeah, I think that warrants an explanation. You should be grateful you weren’t cornered off and interrogated by the Witch-Mothers or chloroformed and left in a carpark in Redcar. Besides, did you read the leaflet?”

She jerked her head towards the stack of pamphlets on the table.

“No? Then you can’t be that curious, Hot Topic-“

Thalia Bristled at the nickname. “My name is-“

“I know what your name is.” She glanced back at Annabeth, who dragged her chair a little closer and put a protective hand on Percy’s knee. “I know who all of you are.”

“Bianca told you about us?” Annabeth probed.

“Velia told me a lot of things.” Trip shot back. “But I need to know what you’ve been told before I can expand on that. What do you know about us? She said something about dreams, but then she told me that it was nothing, in the end. She was lying, wasn’t she?”

“They didn’t stop. Not for me anyway. I thought they might be connected.”

“I think you’re right.” Tripta replied, her eyes darting briefly back to Thalia. “Are you going to sit down while he tells me what he knows, or are you just going to loom and glower?”

Thalia snarled, but dragged her chair over to join them.

So, Percy started. He told them about the funeral dream, the more mundane ones, how he knew that they hid half-bloods here. Trip inhaled sharply when he told her about the prophesy and the fall.

Apparently that was where Velia had stopped telling her about her dreams. When he recited the prophesy to her, she’d looked as though she might cry.

He told her about their Visit to Emma Smart, who it turns out was pretty well known about the woods, and about their long miserable journey to get here featuring the tortoise, the horse-man and the manticore.

“And now,” Percy rounded off, “now we’re here. Wherever here is. Your turn.”

“Yeah. Fuck.’ Trip tugged at the end of her hair. ‘Fuck. Okay. Well first things first, this place. Did you see that big tree in the middle of camp? No? Okay, well back when the Romans invaded Britain thousands of years they chased down these Celtic witches. They made it here, when they couldn’t go any further, where one of them sacrificed herself to anyone who would listen. And some god or something, we don’t know who, accepted her sacrifice and they turned her into a tree. As gods do.” She glanced over to Thalia, cringing a little. ‘Uh, no offence. It made this kind of barrier between us and the gods. All of them. And it was meant to last, legend goes, _until Rome proves capable of peace_. So now you guys are here, sent by a prophesy, after that business with the big statue- Well done for that, by the way.” She told Annabeth, before quickly continuing. “Plus, we’ve done some experiments of our own. That’s why your being here would be a cause for concern even if you weren’t here to drag away my friend who found sanctuary here.”

“Well, we’re sorry for this, but that’s not our fault,” Annabeth chimed in. “And that doesn’t explain how Bianca got here. Or Augustus Birden. They ‘died’, and now they show up here however many years later, with fake names and fake stories?”

Percy nodded. To be honest, he’d almost forgotten about Augustus.

“Almost everyone here is here deliberately. Your camps have uniquely shitty qualities. It’s sort of uh…” She tilted her head back trying to work out how to word this. “It’s part of the protection, if a witch saves your life, its kind of like a trade. No one from your old life can see you. So they can’t give us away. Its only happened, like, six times in two thousand years. That it happened twice in a decade is, frankly, wild.”

“That,” Tripta told them, resting her chin on a clenched fist, “brings us to Velia.”

“Five-ish years ago trouble was brewing thanks to Kronos and so our numbers were going up. A lot of kids were sick of serving the gods weren’t sure if the titans were the lesser evil. I’m on the maintenance team, mainly working in the forge and resources were running low. We had enough for essential weapons and repairs, but not to waste or to experiment or to build up our stock if it came to a fight. That’s when I had the idea. Our friend Hamish comes from a family of thieves and forgers, and he’d heard from them about this magic junkyard. They said it was a death-trap, but I was thirteen and cocky and I wanted materials to develop my talents and if doing so involved robbing my godly sperm-doner then that was perfect. I badgered Hamish into coming with me, thinking that with our combined skills we had a chance.”

Percy couldn’t help but wince at that. Having fought Talos, he thought that plan was dumb. For all But then, for all his faults an overabundance of confidence was never one of them. Annabeth, who’d never seen Talos but _had_ been desperate to prove herself on a quest since she was eight, nodded sympathetically.

“The plan was to disable Talos from the inside before stealing anything. It was working right up until he started to move. There I am, trying to figure out the manual controls and he gets up and starts walking with me inside, and gods know where Hamish is. I should have just laid him back down and disabled him, but again, I was cockier then. I managed to wrench back manual control, and I started making Talos walk about and dance, until I heard something in the machine behind me. I only turned around for a minute but there was a girl behind me. I still don’t know how she climbed him with all the stuff I was doing, but she did. And I’d only looked away for a second but…”

Percy remembered with chilling clarity. The ripple of electricity as the metal giant fell onto the electricity pylons and began to fall apart, piece by piece.

“The internal control booth was insulated with rubber otherwise we’d have been fried. We started falling, and I fell back into her, and we both went into the wall and everything was black and cold and freezing. It felt like we were falling. I assumed I was dead or dying, but later we realised thar Vel had impulse-shadow travelled somehow. Suddenly, I was lying on the ground in the shadow of this giant arm, this girl in a silver jacket was lying next to me unconscious, but it was obvious that she was breathing so I got up, stumbling like a baby deer, to find Hamish.”

“By the time I’d found him the girl had woken up and she was crying out, begging. You were standing right there- both of you- and you walked right by. That’s when we realised what had happened. We’d saved her and killed her in one fell swoop. When she fell her leg was badly broken, and caught between debris, and by the time you were gone, and we could get her she was nearly passed out from the pain. The nerves and the blood flow were damaged. That was why they had to…” She trailed off there, her hand wandering to her own leg as she continued. “We got her out eventually and brought her back to camp. And then to Hospital. She was in and out of consciousness for days. She didn’t…none of this was on purpose. She didn’t run, or desert, or abandon anyone. Its important that you understand that.”

Percy nodded but the numbness hadn’t gone away. That wasn’t enough to absolve them. It still wouldn’t explain why she had a fake name and a backstory, or why she followed them about. Tripta seemed to pick up on his feeling because she kept going.

“So she came here. Our friend Paul is part of this massive family, and she needed a backstory and a legal guardian. It made sense. No one would question another Parker. When she woke up, we asked if she wanted to be who she was or to have a fresh start entirely. You can guess what she chose. She recovered really well considering, but as soon as she woke up she asked about her brother.”

She slumped forwards to rest her head in her hands. “And I think you can figure out the rest. She was desperate to try to help Nico somehow. She kept having these dreams about him, alone and astray. So, she shadow travelled to your cabin and used your fountain to guide you to him, and at the ranch she used mist magic to imitate her own ghost, since Nico kept summoning these shades who wouldn’t speak to him. She loved him enough to trick magic that was strong enough to trick death. Plus with the witches getting more involved with things it made it way easier to come and go, and sneak around.”

“But then why-“ Annabeth started, but as she did Tripta looked up at her with wet eyes.

“I know what you’re going to ask, and I can’t tell you why she jumped.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Annabeth shot back. Percy may have still been processing, but Annabeth’s mind seemed to be working at a mile a minute, as quick (or at least as impertinent) as ever.

Tripta only shrugged, defeated. “It’s not my place, is it? It’s Velia’s decision, Velia’s pain, and it should be Velia who tells you the rest. I don’t feel right having told you this much.”

“You keep calling her that.” Thalia’s hands were clenched by her sides, her knuckled white and her voice strained.

Confusion broke through Tripta’s hardened veneer. “What are you on about?”

“You keep calling her Velia,” Thalia bit out, “as if that was her real name. Like we don’t all know exactly who she is.”

“And who is that?” As Thalia heated up, Tripta seemed to cool down, her tone becoming icy cold and equally as dangerous.

She leaned forwards. “Bianca Di Angelo.” Thalia said the name like it was a curse.

“That’s a name.” Tripta told her. “What she answered to one, nothing more and nothing less. You knew her for what, a week? What can you tell me about her?”

“She’s living in the wrong time. Went to a military school. She left her brother to join the hunt. She couldn’t keep her hands to herself in that goddamned junkyard-“

“Did you know that she was clever?” Tripta asked the question like she was setting a trap or proposing a challenge that she knew she would win. When none of them answered, she kept going.

“Or that she was funny, in a wry kind of way? You were with her on that one quest. I’ve been with her for five years. I watched her cut off her hair when we were twelve and went with her when she got it tidied up properly afterwards. I pierced her ears with a needle in the back corner of the common room. We’ve had movie nights and gone dancing most weekends even when her legs weren’t up for carrying her. I know that she thinks that she looks washed out in Pastels, that she drinks about eight cups of tea a day but she always forgets to finish the last mouthful and then downs it like a lukewarm shot. I know she hates coffee and wont drink blue booze because she can’t say what’s in it. I know that her prized possessions are sixties dress she managed to get for ten quid at a charity shop and her photos. I know that she doesn’t sleep very well, and it’s no wonder why.”

The more she talked the more passionate she got, her words coming faster and thicker, blurring in together more and more each time she repeated those words _I know._ Every time she said it Percy was slapped in the face by how little _he_ knew, for all he’d seen in his dreams.

“Her and Paul have picked up mannerisms from each other. She rubs her arm like he has when he rubs his neck when they’re nervous, and they pull the same face while they do it. They both like the same old movies and music. And she and August sneak off together when they need some peace and quiet. She liked having someone who felt a similar pain, even if she couldn’t let him know that. She and Hamish could talk each other into doing pretty much anything, and they did. I know that she felt guilty every day. I know I’ll never like anyone more than I like her or love a friend as much. None of us will. And I know you can’t take her away. It’s _wrong._ We won’t let you drag her away to her death.”

“Woah, woah! No one said anything about death.” Thalia interjected, looking horrified. Percy agreed with the sentiment. For all he couldn’t work out what he felt, he knew that he didn’t wish the girl dead. Annabeth picked up on his distress, putting a soothing hand on his she tried to dissuade Tripta.

“The prophesy only says a trial- not an execution. If you’re telling us the truth and Bianca hasn’t done anything wrong, then there’s nothing to worry about.”

At that, Tripta let out a bitter little sound, and buried her head in her hands as her shoulders started to shake. Percy and Annabeth met each other’s eyes with matching looks of panic. Even Thalia looked a little sympathetic. For all this sympathy, though, not one of them knew what to say to her as she sobbed.

Or at least they’d assumed she was sobbing. When she raised her head, while her cheeks might were wet with tears, her mouth was twisted into a smile. She’d been laughing.

“Honestly?” She asked them, resting her head on her hands. “You expect the gods to be fair?” When she cocked an eyebrow, Percy felt as defensive and as he did stupid. She continued.

“You of all people, with all your prophesies and the promises you made, should know that the gods aren’t fair, and they aren’t kind either. Velia abandoned the hunt and deceived death. It doesn’t matter if it wasn’t deliberate. They can’t punish ancient magic, so they’ll punish her as the next best thing. That’s how they work. Think of Medusa, or Hera punishing Zeus’s mistresses. The gods are still the same dickheads. The fact that we were born at all, to suffer, and to parents who never asked for this, is proof of that.”

“But Hades is her father,” Annabeth tried to interject, “If its up to him to punish her for cheating death or whatever then surely he’d go lightly on his daughter-“

“But he’s also a god. He’s proud, and he’d have to admit that they’d been duped. And unfortunately, he might be the only god with any precedent of sticking to the rules.”

“But Artemis is different. She’s _good-“_ Thalia butted in, fierce for a second before stopping short taken aback by her own willingness to defend any god. She slumped a little, “She’s as close to good as the gods get.”

Tripta didn’t argue with that. “She’s still a god. Think about Calisto or Aura or Polyphonte. None of them wanted to break a vow, or do wrong by Artemis, but they were punished anyway. I know Velia never broke her promise in the same sense but still, but she’s right to be scared.”

“Scared?” Percy echoed back, his voice creaking. It was the first time he’d spoken since they’d found the girl in the woods.

“For the last five years. She did all this research when she got here, trying to figure out what had happened to her and what was going to happen to her if things went south. She’s been stuck in this weird half-life for five years, where she’s had to keep living but she can’t plan anything too far in advance, and she’s always needed an escape route. She’s suffered enough. The god’s justice wouldn’t be fair. Not when she’s so good.” She swallowed thickly, choking up. “The best of us, probably, liar or not.”

Before anything else could be said, else there was a knock at the door and Augustus stuck his head around the door.

“Trip? She’s awake.”

She nodded, smoothing down the legs of her jumpsuit as she stood up, suddenly all business again.

“I think we’re done here.”

As she got to August she paused a second, softening, and leaned in a little saying something to him that Percy couldn’t quite make out. He just shrugged. “It’s okay. We’re okay. It’s a lot but…poor Velia.”

Tripta clasped a comforting hand on his shoulder before walking past. August lingered looking back at Percy for a second.

“Mary should be back in a little while. She found a room for you guys in the Bramble Block. It’s a kid’s room so it might be a cramped, but she didn’t think you’d want to be split up.”

They all nodded and murmured their thanks. It was weird. They probably knew the most about Augustus, especially now they knew the curse that kept him here. But to August, Percy supposed that he and his friends weren’t much more than names. What connected them, other than their shared grief and the girl?

He stood there for another second, probably having a similar train of thought.

“I’m sorry,” He started. He got this lost look on his face, his mouth hanging open as he tried to figure out what came next. After a moment he nodded and repeated, “I’m sorry.” Before turning sharply.

“ _Poor Velia.”_ Percy heard him murmur again as the door closed behind him.

The three of them sank back into silence. After a little while Annabeth sighed and put her hands over her eyes.

“I hate to admit it, but she has a point.”

He hummed in agreement.

Percy’s main concern was for Nico, who after so much loss was finally in a good place. If this went badly then his heart would break all over again, yet it wasn’t okay to keep it from him either plus if the worst happened, he might be able to. Even if Percy was optimistic, what had happened could still really hurt both siblings. They had both grown into such different people. Their separation had been traumatic and by pretending to be the ghost, she’d effectively lied to Nico. Percy couldn’t say if a miraculous return would be good for either one of them.

“You know,” Thalia broke the silence, “I always felt so guilty. Like I’d stolen her life.”

That caught his attention.

Rather than yelling or raving now her voice was just flat. She’d folded in on herself, her entire posture tired and defeated as she slumped forwards in her chair, her eyes were still open but she was staring blankly at the wall.

“What?” 

“I was Artemis” Lieutenant, and I knew that Zoe had her in mind for a replacement, one day. I overheard her tell you that. And especially when we found Jason. I had the position, and my little brother safe at camp, and I wasn’t the child of the prophesy, and I felt so bad because this was the life that she would have lived if we’d stopped her from taking that goddamn statue. And all this time she was watching. She was fine, happy even. How was that fair?”

“But that wasn’t her fault. She didn’t deserve-,” Annabeth started, but Thalia was quick to shut her down.

 _“_ And neither did I. _”_ She snapped. “I’m not mad _at_ her, I’m mad _for_ me. We were both the same age when made our sacrifices. I was _twelve,_ and I’d already lost my brother, gave up my life. When I got my second chance, I had to toe the line. I had to join Artemis or become the child of the prophesy and I knew I wasn’t strong enough for that. I’m sorry Percy, but I might have let it all burn. But now here she is, with her family that she found, in defiance of the gods. She might even get her brother back.” She snorted, and Percy couldn’t quite figure out if she was laughing or scoffing.

“All this time I felt like I was living the life she would have wanted. It never occurred to me that she could be living mine.”

AUGUSTUS

When Augustus Birden was nearly fifteen, he’d been waiting for the end of the world.

That night Camp Jupiter was planning to storm a mountain, Camp half-blood were amid their last stand in New York. Come the dawn the witches would start scrambling to pick up the pieces.

August had always been told that preparing for battle was sombre, even spiritual. He’d imagined his old friends would have been going over their strategies one last time, preparing themselves for the threat they were about to face. He’d tried to picture himself standing shoulder to shoulder with the cohort. Dakota would probably be trying to make Jason go to bed about now, since he always struggled to sleep when something big was happening the next day. They’d probably have prayed. August hadn’t prayed in a long time.

But for the witches? It was a Friday night. And Friday nights were for dancing, even if the end was nigh.

Paul had led the band with his guitar and his crooning. It was a role he’d taken over from Lee Fletcher and his fiddle. Meanwhile, Tripta spun between different pairs of arms, the beads on her top twinkling in the firelight and her curls whipping around her face. She’d tried to pull him into the dance but he’d yanked his hands away, shooting her the ugliest look he could muster. How could they be this casual? This frivolous? knowing what they knew, and what they were about to do? Lucky for him, Tripta had a thick skin. Rolling her eyes, she had turned back to the dance, not caring enough to be mad at him. Hamish had appeared late and August had hoped he could level with him, since he’d seemed upset to start with. Then, though, he had joined a group of guys from his rugby team (or maybe his book club? The memory was fuzzy with time) and started telling jokes and discussing their next meeting, as if it were certain that they would get one. Even Mary Cooper, who’d spent the past year sick with grief for her boyfriend, worrying for the spy and trying desperately to pull this off had worn flowers in her hair as she drank and laughed alongside her colleagues.

That’s when he’d gone off to find Velia. Some memories had faded, August could remember how he’d found Vel. He hadn’t seen her all day, but then there’d been a lot to prepare and working in the exchange she’d played a large role in it. Sitting on the steps, she had looked pale and tired. Sick, almost. He’d settled down next to her.

She’d barely stirred when he had sat next to her, only staring into the fire with unseeing eyes. After a night of feeling impotent, watching the witches laugh and joke as if there was nothing going on in the world while his old comrades could be dying, August finally broke.

“I can’t believe that they’re doing this.”

“Hmm?” Velia looked up like she was surprised to see him there.

“This.” He gestured towards the party. “we’re about to fight in a war, the world is in jeopardy, lives are going to be lost. We have so much responsibility and everyone’s drinking and partying and acting like a bunch of-“

“Teenagers?” Velia finished for him, her voice cold and sharp.

“Well…yeah.” It was what August had been about to say, but from Velia’s lips it sounded like the wrong answer.

“We are teenagers August. How else should we behave?” There was a dangerous edge to the question, but Augustus had been angry enough and unobservant enough to ram his foot into the bear trap.

‘Well in New Rome we were-“

“Children dressed up and playing at being soldiers, as if that somehow made it okay, risking your lives and making you live like that.” As soon as she spoke, she’d deflated her sharpness melting away into pity. That had felt worse, somehow.

“I just…”

She’d paused, grappling for the right words. Had it been anyone else they might have backpedalled or said they didn’t mean it, but Velia didn’t lie. Usually, it was Trip who challenged him on New Rome, since the runaways didn’t think it was worth discussing with August. They wouldn’t be able to change his mind. He hadn’t known until now that Velia had strong feelings, one way or another.

“We’re kids, August. I forget sometimes.” She reached over and placed her hand over his. “This is to do with Jason, isn’t it? You feel helpless. Like this should be you and not him, and you’d do anything to help, so anyone being happy right now feels like an insult, right?”

It was scary, sometimes, how well Velia could understand someone and what made them tick, when what went inside her head remained a mystery.

“You should be mad.” She told him, conspiratorial. “Be mad at the gods who want us to fight their battles. Who stunt our growth because they won’t grow themselves. Be mad at the higher powers that placed the weight of the world on the shoulders of fifteen year olds, and that brought you here at all-“

“You sound like one of Saturn’s supporters.” August had told her, in an attempt to avoid facing the point that she made. She didn’t take the bait and get defensive just kept her tone calm like she was soothing a frightened animal.

“Maybe, In another life, I’d be one of them. If they’d found me before I found this place. Who can say? I’m mad at him most of all. For taking half-bloods’ righteous anger and corrupting it. I’m mad that if even if we win tomorrow, Percy Jackson will be dead, and it will all have been for nothing. Back to business as usual. They won’t face the feelings that caused this in the first place.”

August had come to appreciate, at that point, how different his life would have been if he were a son of Aphrodite at Camp Half-Blood rather than a son of Venus in New Rome, yet at the time his instinct had still been to jump to the gods’ defence. Something in Velia’s defeated posture had made him pause, though. Instead, he had taken her hand in his and squeezed it. It was an odd role reversal, for her to rant and him to offer comfort.

His faith in the gods had taken a long time to fade, chipping away bit by bit so slowly that he hadn’t noticed until it was gone entirely. This, he realised with hindsight, had been the start of it.

“I just…I’ve got a lot of blame, August. For myself mostly. For the gods and the world at large. But not for them. If this is our last night on earth, why waste it. Why shouldn’t we live before we die?”

He didn’t know how long they sat there for, until f a Stevie Nicks song started playing and Tripta ran towards Velia with her arms outstretched and a blinding smile. Velia pushed herself up and joined her, belting out the words with the rest of her coven. Grasping Trip’s hands she turned her head to the sky, smiling even as the tear tracks on her cheeks were illuminated by the moonlight.

At the time, August hadn’t realised just how much he hadn’t understood. Where Velia had gone missing to. What had gotten her so upset. Why it had all felt so important.

 _Truth is the daughter of time_.

\---

He took a moment to take in everything Hamish had told him. Paul had come back briefly to check on him before scurrying off again to find clothes and supplies for their new guests, on Mary’s request. Part of August was blown away by the fact that Jason’s friends, his _sister_ of all people, were in that building. The bigger part of him was preoccupied by Velia.

So she had been saved just like he had been, but unlike him she’d found a way to go back and protect and keep up with the people from her old life. Her little trips and side projects with Hamish hadn’t just been for thievery. Hamish had helped her in return, to look out for her brother and try to seek out their past.

Hamish had been gentle as he spoke, looking at August as if he might blow at any moment. In all fairness while August was, as a rule, calm and rational when he was faced with big changes- like arriving at camp or being on the verge of war- he’d been known to snap or lash out. He got why he should be mad too. Velia had lied to him, albeit not directly. She’d let him assume a host of things that weren’t true. For instance, upon reflection August realised that he’d never been entirely sure how she and Paul were related, beyond that vague title of cousin. He asked how she wound up living with Paul, and she had told him that there was no one else, so he’d assumed that her family was dead. Even if she’d never lied, she’d lead August to a conclusion of her choosing. He should be mad. She was a half blood and he’d never known.

Yet every time he tried to think badly of her, he felt the weight of her hand in his or glanced back at her on the bed behind him, so pale and small. He remembered a distant look, or sad and cryptic comment that she had made which were now cast under a new light. Augustus was overcome by pity. He’d never pitied his friend before.

At the end of his explanation, Hamish began a long, tangled web of an apology and Augustus didn’t understand why he was giving it. If Velia wanted to keep secrets that wasn’t a reflection on Hamish. Besides, even if August was mad about the lie he knew from his own life that her keeping her past to herself had been an act of self-preservation, not malice. He’d spent the last five years feeling like one guy split across two different lives, whereas Velia’s solution had been to split herself.

Hamish kept staggering through sentences until August felt the hand in his tighten.

“Aug?” Vel murmured, her eyes flittering open and closed.

“Yeah, yeah Vel I’m right here.”

“August.” She murmured again, giving his hand a weak squeeze. “D’you know, now?”

“Aye,” Hamish answered for him, laying a hand on the bed at Velia’s other side. Weak as she was, she closed the gap to lay his hand on his. Whenever the two touched, it was never sudden. They always met each other halfway. August assumed it was a boundaries thing or maybe shyness, but now he knew what he knew about Velia, that carefulness made a little more sense. “Everything.”

Velia tried to nod smiled in thanks before she turned back to August, straining to keep her eyes open.

“M’sorry. So, so sorry.” A fat tear rolled down her cheek as she blinked her eyes tight closed a second. August reached to wipe it with the corner of his sleeve. At least she was solid enough for tears, he reasoned. “I lied. M’sorry.”

August only shushed her. It would have been so easy to hate her, if she weren’t obviously burdened by everything she’d said and she’d survived.

“It’s okay. Well, not… I mean, I understand. I forgive you.”

That mollified Velia a little. She drifted off again, holding their hands. Eventually Paul came back, and silently slotted onto the end of the bed. He took one of each of their hands in his, like they were making a summoning circle. They sat in their silent vigil for maybe an hour.

August tried to keep his mind of the half-bloods in the next room over and what their presence meant for him and Velia, for they had made here and the ones they had left behind.

He couldn’t pray anymore. Any god he believed was real, he believed more than ever now that they didn’t care. Instead, he closed his eyes and hoped.

PERCY

They didn’t talk for a long time after she said that. Mary Cooper came back into the room and lead them back out into the cold and into a low wooden building with a grass roof. She strongly suggested that they stayed put until the next morning and not rock the boat. They stayed silent as they wrangled borrowed bedding onto the bunkbeds, changed into borrowed pyjamas and washed with the toiletries that Mary had brought them. The room had been emptied out for the vacation, but there were little pieces of the kids left behind- a bird-spotting poster on the back of the door and paper snowflakes hung stuck on the windows.

Percy didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, his mind was somehow moving at a mile a minute and somehow still wasn’t getting anywhere. He still didn’t know how he felt about the girl. The liar. They were running out of time until the solstice, and for all he knew now, he didn’t know what to do next. He didn’t know what course of action was good or right.

The bed wasn’t quite long enough for him, so his feet trailed over the edge like Tyson’s did when he stayed at camp. The mattress was old, with metal springs that stuck into his back. Combine that with the time difference and his being in a new place, he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep for a long while.

He thought wrong. Rather, Percy couldn’t stop himself from falling asleep. It was as though someone had caught him by the ankle and was dragging him into dark water.

For the last time, Percy dreamed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, so its been quite some time now, but the hiatus is over! All is revealed. Sorry, this one was a bugger to write and even then it feels like it's mostly exposition? Like, everyone knows everything that they know now...  
> Also let Thalia Grace be bitter about her situation and continue to be angry 2k21!  
> Quick run down of all the women of Myths that Trip mentioned in their argument:  
> Calisto - Huntress who was assaulted by Zeus, turned into a bear by either he, Hera, or Artemis as a result, and then killed by Artemis in the hunt. She was turned into a star afterwards but I don't think its much consolation.  
> Aura - Made a comment about Artemis having big boobs whilst on a hunt with her (I could not make this up) So Artemis enables Dionysos to assault her. Its a very grim story so I won't go into it.   
> Polyphonte- Huntress driven mad by Aphrodite, gets pregnant by a bear and Artemis exiles her rather than helps her. Her sons appear in the sea of monster, as Lukes henchmen.  
> I like the theme of Trash gods from the original PJO series, and I like how they went into it more in the Trials of Apollo!   
> I'll try to update in the next few weeks, so please, please comment and leave Kudos, if only to assure me that no ones given up on this fic in my absence! Its a good motivator. let me know if anything doesn't make sense! Join us next week when Vel and Percy finally hash things out! Have a lovely week Xx


	19. The Hermit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contemplation, Search for Truth, Search for Self

**THE HERMIT**

_Contemplation, Search for Truth, Search for Self_

PERCY

Percy Jackson never watched the sun rise.

It wasn’t just because he was rarely up early enough, although that was a pretty big factor. For one thing, Percy had ridden the sun chariot. Seen it, ridden it, almost thrown up in it- it wasn’t an experience he cared to relive. What was more, remembering the sun chariot made him think about Apollo, which reminded why Jason was gone, and that Zeus had done nothing at all to save his own son, and of the cosmic injustice that they’d all been born into.

For another, the sunrise always made Percy think of a night, five years ago. A cold dawn had broken over the land without rain as he and his friends he had come to the miserable realisation that Bianca Di Angelo was dead.

No, not dead. Lost.

That didn’t make much difference. The memory had haunted him all the same.

Through his own eyes, the experience had been miserable and bleak and left him wracked with guilt. Through Bianca’s eyes, though, the memory was something out of a horror movie.

Percy remembered an eery quietness, only broken by the metallic echoing of their own voices through the junkpiles but in his dream he heard begging.

Percy, Thalia, Grover and Zoe had reconvened at the entrance of the junk yard. Unknowingly, they were all standing with their backs turned to the girl crumpled on the ground. It was clear she couldn’t stand from the way she lay twisted around, holding up her body with her hands. Her long hair was stuck to her sweaty face, twisted up in strain and pain.

“Please, I’m so sorry, _please._ I didn’t mean to do it, and I tried to fix it. I’m sorry, I should have listened to you, I know that now, just _please_ help me. Even just _look_ at me.”

On, and on she pleaded but no one turned around because no one could hear her. She seemed just as startled as they did when Zoe’s Icy façade shattered, and she sat on the floor and wept barely a foot away from the girl.

“Zoe? Don’t cry we can-“

She stopped short when she’d tried out a shaking hand towards Zoe. It was like some invisible restraint was holding her back, leaving her briefly suspended as she reached towards her friend, before she slumped back down unable to support her body weight with just the one arm. She looked at her own hand, then back towards Zoe.

“What? I don’t…”

“ _We can keep searching,”_ Percy had tried to reassure his friends, “ _It’s light now, we’ll find her.”_

 _“_ Find me? Percy I’m right-“

 _“No we won’t.” Grover said miserably,_ cutting the girl off without realising it _. “It happened just as it was supposed to.”_

“No, Grover you’re a protector for god’s sake, you’re _supposed_ to-”

_“What are you talking about?” Percy had demanded._

_Grover looked up at Percy with big watery eyes. “The prophesy. One shall be lost in the land without rain.”_

Bianca fell silent, a look of horror setting in as she realised what was happening without any idea why.

The sun had risen. They had left the junkyard, leaving Bianca DiAngelo behind in the dust, never to be seen again.

…

The dream shifted.

Percy saw himself in the Triple G Ranch, a bow and arrow in his hands as he stood facing Geryon. With his two swords and three chests, he cut an intimidating figure underneath his kiss the cook apron.

_‘You Fool! One arrow is no better than one sword!’_

As the monster yelled, Percy took a second to close his eyes and breath, letting out his silent prayer to Artemis and Apollo, to do him this one solid, and to help him this one time. He remembered feeling some unseen force guiding his bow. He’d reserved a certain amount of good will for the archer gods for years afterwards. Heck, it was that memory which prompted him to let Apollo up into his apartment two years ago, and they saw how well that had gone for them.

Percy hadn’t seen Bianca, standing directly in between himself and Geryon.

When Percy had seen her ghost at the ranch, he’d been struck by how little she’d changed from life to death. Without the firelight and the mist, though, the faults in the illusion were easier to spot. Strands of her bangs fell loose from her hat that they were hidden under, and the rest of her hair was tucked under the high collar of her silver jacket to hide how much shorter it was, and her face had gotten a little bonier. Besides there was something different in her stance- he didn’t mean her limp but the quiet assurance that lay behind her movements that she hadn’t has as Bianca.

He hadn’t been able to see, then noticed a her lay a finger on the bottom of the bow, as gentle as breath. She seemed surprised, and a little pleased that she’d been able to make contact. Maybe it was his prayer that let it happen, since his brain could fill in the blanks himself as to what had happened. Maybe it was pure dumb luck.

She jumped out of the way, just as Percy released the string.

_Thwack, Thwack, Thwack._

The arrow passed clean through Geryon’s three chests. Percy let out a pant of relief. The girl laughed. Percy wasn’t sure who she was addressing- herself, him or Hamish who he hadn’t noticed at the time, hunkered behind the couch- when she announced.

“Okay. Now we’re even.”

…

The dream shifted one last time. He found himself in Rome, real Rome, in the layer of Ephialtes and Otis. The walls were lined with gladiator memorabilia and caged animals, but the only thing Percy could focus on was the giant bronze jar set on a dais.

The girl (he didn’t know whether to call her Bianca or Velia here, and it was hard to reconcile the two in his mind) was standing, silently weeping, with her hands resting on the urn. Hamish stood a little way behind her, clearly desperate to comfort her but not knowing how. Percy guessed that her curse only stopped her from touching something someone could see or feel it? And maybe she could move the bow because Percy was able to explain it away. _Magic made its own sense._ The Hecate cabin liked to throw out that line whenever someone argued too hard with them.

When footsteps became audible both of their heads whipped towards the entrance Arch.

“Oh, fuck.”

Hamish muttered under his breath, pulling the girl with him to hide behind to hide, wrapped up in eachother’s arms, between a couple of crates of wonder bread.

“This okay?” He might have been asking about what they were about to see or their close proximity. Either way, it was nice that Hamish asked. Velia grasped his hand, which was awkwardly wedged at her side and squeezed it, in response.

“ _Look,”_ Percy recognised his own voice before saw himself.

_“That’s Too easy.”_

_“Of Course.”_

“ _But we have no choice, we’ve got to save Nico.”_ That was Jason’s voice, so sure of what was right, even while he was terrified.

He heard himself agree, and saw he, Piper and Jason begin make their way across the room, completely unaware that they were being watched. Everyone started when the ceiling broke open above them. Through it came the giant Ephialtes, suspended on a platform; every bit as gaudy and as ugly as Percy remembered.

“ _At last!”_ he had bellowed, “ _So very happy! Honestly, I didn’t think you’d make it past the numpths, but it’s so much better that you did. Much more entertaining You’re just in time for the main event_.”

_“We’re here. Let our friend go.”_

“ _Of course!_ ” Ephialtes said. ‘ _Though I fear He’s a bit past his expiration date. Otis, where are you?”_

The twin giants bickered for a little while, about costumes and ballet, until Percy brought them back to task.

“ _Okay. Now about our friend_ …”

“ _Oh, him_ ,” Ephialtes sneered. “ _we were going to let him finish dying in public, but he has no entertainment value. He’s spent days curled up sleeping. What sort of Spectacle is that? Otis, tip over the jar.”_

Bianca let out a desperate sob when Nico tumbled out of the jar, half-dead. Lying limp on the ground, pale and weak, he looked a lot like his sister had lying in the junkyard. She detatched herself from Hamish and threw herself to her knees at his side, her metal leg clinking on the ground. No one could see or hear her, but that didn’t matter as much as being close to her brother did. She kept her hands clenched at her sides though, knowing that would happen if she reached out to him.

Percy and his friends kept arguing with the giants to keep them distracted but the girl didn’t pay them much mind. Slowly, tentatively she reached out her hand and placed it on the small of Nico’s back. He shuddered, his eyes still closed, and Bianca’s hands immediately flew to her mouth with the shock that she’d made contact. When she reached again, the invisible restraints were back, maybe since Nico was regaining consciousness. He remembered seeing that shudder and feeling so relieved that Nico was alive.

After a moment of disappointment and shock, Bianca turned to face Percy and his friends.

“Hello again.” She said in a small voice, knowing full well that no one knew she was there. Slowly, shakily, she got to her feet, paying no mind to the conversation around her.

“Save him. Save him and I’ll make it up to you, somehow. My life for his if it comes to it,” She glanced back for a second at Hamish, who was obviously worried and shaking his head at her. _Careful,_ he mouthed, but the girl didn’t pay him much mind. She turned back to Percy, resolute.

“I swear on the river Styx. Just save, Percy, him because I _can’t_.”

As she invoked the oath, a loaf of wonderbread fell from the ceiling. The timing would have been funny, if she’d not just done something so earth shatteringly selfless. Or stupid. Hamish looked horrified but not surprised. They both understood the enormity of what she’d just done. The girl didn’t seem phased by it, though. Just sad.

Percy wouldn’t have left Nico, and she should have known that, so he couldn’t understand why she would do this, knowing the cost unless…

Unless she blamed herself.

Oh.

…

Percy woke up in a cold sweat, glad for the bunkbeds. Between his thrashing in his sleep and the way he was panting now, he’d have woken the girls up if they were any closer. On the other side of the room, the girls were still sound asleep.

He spent a couple of seconds at war with himself as he sat on the bed trying to get his breath back. On one hand, he was in a strange camp along with about a hundred witches who weren’t too fond of gods or prophesies. He shouldn’t rock the boat, wander, or do anything else that might jeopardise their good will. From the way Mary Cooper had told them someone come escort them to breakfast in the morning, he gotten the impression that they should stick to the kids’ room.

But then again, the longer he stayed put the smaller the room felt and the harder it became to breath. So, in the most recent of nineteen years’ worth of dumb decisions, Percy lurched out of his bed. Ramming his feet into his shoes and grabbing his jacket, he made his way to the door. Once he was outside it became a little easier and he felt steadier on his feet. In the time he’d been sleeping more snow had fallen and the clouds had rolled away again. It had been past midnight when they went to sleep, and the sun wasn’t up yet. Suffice to say, Percy didn’t feel too well rested.

Yet the idea of going back inside and trying to sleep again seemed impossible. Ridiculous even. He thought about how if the others woke up without him then they’d worry, and start a fight if they assumed there was foul play involved. Going back to bed was the sensible choice, but it wasn’t the one that Percy made.

He was already out, he reasoned to himself. What harm could wandering do? He sort of remembered the way that that came from the medical bay, so he probably wouldn’t get lost, and if he did then the buildings were low enough that he could see the big tree at the centre of camp and to find his way back from there.

He started walking, with no real sense of direction, his sneakers crunching in the fresh snow. Beyond the cluster of bigger buildings at the middle of camp were streets of those same low wooden houses with their grass and soil roofs, set out like a spider’s web. People had their photos and names on placards on their doors, initials and magic symbols were carved into the walls, and patches of newer wood made repairs obvious. Eventually he made his way to the cluster of buildings at the centre of camp and paused for a second, wondering how the shipping containers that some of the buildings were made from had gotten there when the tracks didn’t quite seem wide enough to take them.

When Percy turned the by the medical bay, he stopped short.

The girl was sitting on an old crate, looking into the nothingness and playing absentmindedly with a deck of cards. When Percy approached, she put them down and got to her feet. He probably should have tried to stop her since she was still deathly pale, despite being solid now, and leaning heavily on her cane. Percy thought for a second that she’d close the distance between them but instead she stopped, her heavy breaths forming fog in the air.

‘Percy Jackson.’

‘Bianca Di Angelo.’

She winced.

“No one’s called me that in a long time.” She murmured, breaking eye contact.

“Why?” Percy asked. Demanded really. He knew that he sounded cold and harsh but it was the first thought that managed to break through the numbness that had overwhelmed him since last night. The girl blinked a couple of times before she found the cool composure he’d come to associate with Velia so quickly, Percy could have thought he’d imagined her bewilderment.

“Because it was easier not to live with the reminder, day to day. I could start again.”

He stared at her, trying to reconcile all the versions of her that he’d known- the scared kid, the huntress, the ghost, the mystery of the prophesy and the girl he’d seen going about her life in his dreams. She wrapped her satin robe more tightly around herself and kept talking once it was clear Percy wasn’t going to say anything else.

“I’m sorry, Percy. I should never have lied to you or to anyone else but I didn’t know what else to do. Nico wasn’t okay, and everything else we tried didn’t work. I had to do something, but I shouldn’t have made him your responsibility. I know how stressful that was, I shouldn’t have put it on you. As for…”

The name Tartarus remained unsaid.

“It was the right thing to do. I don’t regret it.”

Percy could only nod in return.

“Thankyou. For protecting Nico. And for saving the world too, I guess. I’m so _sorry_ , Percy.”

She didn’t say it as if she expected an answer, or some sign of forgiveness. Only as though she wanted him to know.

Her thanks had taken him by surprise, far more than her apology. Percy never thought of helping Nico as a success. He’d let him run away, been unable to get him to stay at Camp year-round, and he hadn’t picked up on the way Nico felt about him. He should have been gentler with Nico, more understanding in those times when he’d felt betrayed by him. He could have done better.

He’d been so lost in his thoughts for a second that he’d forgotten about the girl, who was standing stock still in front of him watching him with wary eyes.

It was funny. Percy had thought that this numbness, this emotional overload, would last forever. If not, he’d been fully prepared to hate or at least to resent the girl.

Now that they stood face to face, Percy pitied her.

That didn’t mean that he was okay with what had happened. Not yet anyway. Not by a long shot. But it meant that he was willing to talk with her, a little longer and to try and understand.

“I tried.” He told her, in all earnestness. “to help him. I probably could have done a better job, I mean-“

“No.” she cut him off. “That’s dangerous thinking. Trust me. I’ve been told that feeling responsible for other people, is a flaw of mine. A fatal one, even. Makes me take on too much, and take stupid risks. Percy, you did your best in a situation that you never should have been in. Your best. That’s all that matters. Nico’s okay now?”

Her eyes were pleading.

“Yeah, he’s good. Happy, I think. He’s got friends, and a boyfriend,” Percy watched her carefully when he said that. But she didn’t seem surprised, only smiled for the first time since he’d seen her. “He’s happy.” He promised her.

“Good.” She told him. Pausing for a minute. “I knew he admired you back then. I thought that might make it easier, that he’d listen to you but…” She let out a long sigh, rubbing her forehead. “Well, you know. I know how easy it was to get a crush like that, when someone swoops in and saves you like something from a storybook. And then you realise that they’re just a person, and you go and find something real. I just wish we could have… I’m sorry, you don’t want to stand and listen to me philosophise. Do you mind if I sit again?”

Percy was a little tongue-tied at that. Nico’s comment about ‘not being his type,’ had played on his mind for years now. He’d always wondered that if he’d picked up on Nico’s crush, he might have been able to deal with it differently, better somehow. Granted, Percy could never figure out quite how, but he still felt that surge of responsibility. 

Then another part jumped out at Percy. She _knew_ how it felt _._

“Is, uh, you mean your friend Hamish?”

He fumbled to find the right words. It felt wrong to pry, since Percy didn’t know where they stood, but if her friend had been worried about Artemis...

She looked at him, puzzled for a moment, before she realised what he was trying to ask her.

“Gods, no. That’s not what we are at _all_.”

Percy nodded, confused as to who else she meant if not- wait. Oh, gods it couldn’t be- he was cut off by a quiet snort. Either something in his face had given him away or Bianca could read minds.

“Not you, Percy. Don’t worry.” She rested her head against the wall behind her. “Zoe.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Stepping out of the snow, with that silver glow around her. And she noticed me. Wanted me as to be her protege. Not Nico’s sister, or a powerful half-blood. Me.” A tear made its way out from behind her clenched eyes. “Who I was then, anyway. All potential. _Gods._ What would she think of me now?”

Her voice was thick with self-loathing. That choking feeling of pity was back, along with the feeling he should comfort her. Instead he asked her another question.

“Do you regret it?” Percy winced when he spoke, knowing it sounded like a loaded question and he was waiting to condemn her. 

She didn’t get mad though. Instead, she dried her face on the collar of her sweater (it was so obviously big on her, even under the robe that she must have borrowed it off of one of her friends.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific,” She considered. “I regret lying, like I said. I regret the burden I put on you. I regret abandoning Nico and hurting him. But I don’t regret this life I’ve made for myself. Contrary to what the dreams might have made you think, I’ve done more these past five years than follow you. I’ve travelled, found things I like. Sometimes, I forget that I was ever anyone but Velia and I even like myself, if you can believe it. I’ve been _happy,_ and I’ve felt guilty for that every day. Still, I’m not a good enough person to regret it. I didn’t know…” She paused for a second, grappling for the right words and whether or not she should speak them out loud.

“I didn’t know that you could love, be loved back, without losing some part of yourself.” She told him plainly. “I loved Nico so much, but I always had to take care of him, and that I didn’t do much beyond being his sister. When I joined the hunt, that automatically became the better part of my identity and my future too. But then I came here. for the first time I could figure out what I liked and what I wanted and who I wanted to be around, without any obligation. loved it. Gods Percy, I’ve loved being Velia.”

She leaned her head back again, letting out a bitter laugh.

“Maybe I’m just selfish. I was so desperate for a life of my own…I used to think that maybe this was some cosmic punishment. I got what I wanted and lost what I had. I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, either. My final confession. Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to forgive me. I wouldn’t.”

She drifted off then, rubbing her forearm with her thumb.

“What would she think of me?” She repeated so quietly that Percy didn’t think he was supposed to hear her, never mind answer her.

That pity was back.

He didn’t have any words to bring her back from that kind of guilt, that self-doubt and self-loathing. If he did, he’d have used them up on himself Five years ago when he left the Junkyard without her. So, Percy didn’t use his own words.

“I think she would tell that you did your best in a situation that you never should have been in, and that’s all that matters. Right?”

She didn’t answer him for a while. They sat there, for a minute without saying anything else. It was all very still and very quiet. The whole Camp was illuminated by the moon and the great tree in the middle reached up like a hand trying to grasp the sky above them.

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

“What?”

“Don’t be this nice. I’m not worth it. Don’t deserve it. And it’ll make it harder to leave behind when I...”

“What?”

“Tomorrow. To trial. I won’t fight. Me and Mary made plans for best- and worst-case scenarios. I’ll go with you. Face my trial, pay my _life of lies cost_. I won’t make anything difficult, but don’t think I don’t know the costs. I mean…you aren’t tricking me into anything. I know enough to know when its over.”

“Oh.”

Any warmth that Percy was feeling melted away. Right. He wanted to argue with her. To tell her she was wrong, and it would all be okay. How would her father condemn his own daughter? But then he remembered that the gods were vicious bastards. And he remembered that Hades was a stickler to the rules. Hazel had lived because Pluto had refused to acknowledge that she was alive. If Bianca’s second life was thrown out into the open, he’d be forced to act whether he’d known about it or not. Couldn’t be seen to make exceptions.

“But-“ She continued before Percy could crawl back down his moral rabbit hole. “Could you do me a favour please? And then we’ll call it even.”

Percy nodded, wary.

“If it goes badly, I don’t want Nico to know what happened to me. Velia Parker will die. I don’t want him to know who she really was. He doesn’t have to mourn me twice. But…”

She reached into the waistband of her pyjama pants, pulling out a worn piece of paper, carefully wrapped in clear plastic. An antique black and white photo, worn as thin and frail as a leaf over time and tattered around its edges. It showed two little children. A woman who must have been their mother crouching down behind them to get in the shot, but she hadn’t crouched far enough so you could only really see her smile. The two kids had matching wide, dark, eyes and floppy dark hair. The boy’s collar stuck up at an odd angle and the girl’s hair was tied back in a floppy bow. They looked happy.

The Di Angelo family, as they were eighty years ago.

“Where did you…?”

Velia shrugged. “Nico wasn’t the only one who went searching for the past. Hamish helped me. Between his criminal connections and my being able to walk through walls, it’s amazing what the two of us can find. Can you give this to him? Make something up if you have to.”

Percy took the photo from her as carefully as he could. Looking at how resolved she was, Percy couldn’t help but respect her.

“And you’ll come with us? Knowing what might… Just like that?”

“Just like that.” She echoed back at him. “This isn’t the first time I’ve ran into certain death. Talos. Tartarus. Third time’s the charm.”

It didn’t escape Percy’s notice that all three of her sacrifices were for his sake in some form.

“This was always borrowed time, Percy. I can’t be upset that it’s ending.”

They faded into silence again, while Percy mulled that over. As a two-time child of the prophesy, Percy understood that sense of resignation. He understood that it was her choice to make. If her life were going to mean anything, she’d have to live it for herself.

That left Percy with one last concern.

“What if Nico finds out? What if your father tells him, or he senses it somehow?”

She took a second, looking at the camp around her as if she were trying to commit it all- the shabby buildings, the breaking dawn, the bare tree branches- to memory.

“Tell him that I love him.”

“What else?”

“What else is there?”

Percy didn’t have an answer to that.

“I’ll tell him.”

“Okay. Good. I’ll see you at breakfast, Percy.”

And just like that she was gone, leaving Percy alone again. For the first time in five years, Percy watched the sun rise, head on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let Me know what you though! I'm not sure If I've made Percy a little too passive in this one, but I felt like the two of them would have to talk it out, and honestly what can you say in that situation?  
>  I also wasn't sure about keeping in the Ranch part (and still might remove it.) WHile it feels a bit silly, I did want the sense that not all of Bianca's experiences were so terrible!  
> Thanks for reading, Please gods, please leave Kudos or a comment (even if its to tell me I'm crap!)   
> Until next time!, Have a lovely week! Xx

**Author's Note:**

> So that was that! Bare with me for the set-up. Plot comes in in chapter 6. On the bright side we get some fun one-shots with the whole gang thanks to Percy's dreams! I've been planning this story for a hella long time, so now I can't leave the house it seemed as good a time as any to get to writing it. Thanks for reading! Any Feedback is very much appreciated if you'd like to leave it, and I'll try to update in every sunday!


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